


The Same Deep Water As You

by Belladonna_Baby



Category: Stranger Things (TV 2016)
Genre: Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Angst and Humor, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, F/M, Forgiveness, Graphic Description, Homophobic Language, Internal Conflict, Light Angst, M/M, Nightmares, Period-Typical Homophobia, Season/Series 02, Sexual Content, Slow Build, Slow Burn, Underage Drinking, Unhealthy Coping Mechanisms, mentions of abuse
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-11-12
Updated: 2018-12-20
Packaged: 2019-02-01 04:00:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 14
Words: 20,292
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12696897
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Belladonna_Baby/pseuds/Belladonna_Baby
Summary: Steve runs through the lines in his head for the 13th time that morning. He knocks three times, bites his bottom lip, and holds his breath.





	1. Burn

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Dude I don't know what I am doing but I hope you enjoy. Comments are loved and appreciated!

His hands are trembling slightly. Steve shoves them in denim pockets to hide his nerves. The inside corner of his lip has been chewed raw. He stands, head bowed for a moment, and breathes.  
Just do it and get it over with. You have bigger things to worry about, he reminds himself. The hallway is empty except for the slight shuffling he can hear inside The Dark Room. Nancy mentioned once that the janitor lets Jonathan Byers in to develope pictures Saturday mornings. His routine since last year clearly hasn’t changed. Steve doesn’t know what kind of deal the two scored but he had to bribe Reed the janitor with a pack of Newports to let him in.

 

He can’t say he isn’t tempted to just turn right on around and leave the way he came. He’s itching to. But he knows this is something that needs to be said, a slate that needs to be cleaned. And he knows the other boy won’t initiate it. He shakes his head from the thought of fleeing, strands of hair flopping about from the movement. Steve runs through the lines in his head for the 13th time that morning. He knocks three times, bites his bottom lip, and holds his breath.

 

The noises inside The Dark Room stop. There’s a stretch of silence on both sides of the door before it clicks open. Crimson light slips through the sliver and out into the hallway. For a moment Steve is transfixed by it. He then takes in the blonde boy’s confused expression.

 

“...Steve?... um, w-what are you doing here?”

 

The taller male regains some of his composure as he takes in Jonathan's surprise. I got this. Steve smirks, not unkindly, and motions to come in. The blonde hesitates before stepping aside to let him pass. The door clicks shut and they are bathed in a cherry glow. Everything is still, both pairs of lungs halting. Steve notices the pictures clipped on lines, the trays of photographic developer, and the defensive cross of Jonathan's arms. He spots one of the images beginning to show, a familiar smile appearing. It’s Nancy in a knitted sweater, smiling down at what looks to be a copy of Pride & Prejudice. He smiles despite the ache. He is stronger than he was and refuses to act petty or with rage. Jonathan looks at the picture Steve’s noticed and coughs awkwardly. Steve watches his dark eyes shift from the floor to the door as if plotting an escape. Steve feels amused as the shorter boy fidgets. The Brunette finally speaks up.

 

“ I’m not angry at you…” and wow, that was so not one of the lines he prepared. It sounds strange to his own ears, but after a quick second of reflecting, Steve finds the words to be true. Jonathan's brows are scrunched together, making a slight crease in his wan skin. The words seemed to have the opposite effect than what Steve intended from this excursion. The toe haired man huffs out a breath, seemingly bewildered.

 

“ I don’t feel guilty.” Jonathan laughs an eerie sound, affronted by Steve’s words. Why should he care if Steve hates him for what happened with Nancy? As far as he’s concerned Steve hated him, still hates him, they were never friends, and sure they saved each other's lives a couple times but that was circumstantial. They meant nothing to each other. Except here Steve was, speaking to Jonathan as if there was a burden he carried.

 

Hazel eyes hardened, Steve stepped closer, mouth agape slightly. He searched the other’s face. Jonathan could see the surprise, disbelief, and then another emotion give way. He deflated from the sight of Steve’s almost dejected look.

 

“That’s not true… “ He sighed barely above a whisper, hand carding through messy hair,“ I- I am sorry for how… how things went… it wasn’t right, what we did…” Jonathan recalled Steve from that night, after the events with the shadow monster. He remembers the forced smile and busy antics as he tried to make sure all the kids were okay. But the line of his shoulders was slumped and his eyes gleamed with loss. Jonathan had said nothing, just observed and carried on. Perhaps fueled by some old resentment. He regretted that now. 

Now he was stuck in The Dark Room with Steve Harrington and the air was getting heavy with tension.

  
“ I forgave you.” Steve states simply but he hesitates before continuing, “... do-do you?” Forgive me? For everything?

 

Jonathan looks perplexed by the question. The red light casts half his face in shadow, one eye blackened out, his hair a tinged rosy halo. Steve almost wishes he had a camera, wishes he knew how to capture a moment as well as Jonathan. The blonde thinks about the Steve who broke his camera, the Steve who spit nasty words his way, the Steve he beat the shit out of in an alley. He gazes at the boy in front of him. They are vastly different. Two sides of the same coin. Jonathan finds he prefers this side much more. The Steve who bought him a new camera, the Steve who spends his time looking after kids and defending them from monsters, the Steve who forgives Nancy and himself.

 

“... Yeah… yeah, I forgive you.”

 

Jonathan never knew someone could have so many expressions at once. He watches Steve’s face morph from surprise, uncertainty, relief, to something he assumes is joy. He hasn’t figured out if Steve’s smirks vary in meaning though. Steve lets loose a relieved chuckle.

 

“Glad to hear it Byers… Sorry for uh- well everything really… and interrupting your routine...”

 

This seems to spark something in Jonathan. “How’d you know I was here?” he asks curiously.

 

“ Nancy… She said something about you spending your time here on saturdays a while back… before...well you know…”

 

Jonathan nods, understanding, “ How’d you get Carl to let you in?”

 

“ I gave him my cigarettes…”

 

Jonathan cracks a smile at this, “ huh, he doesn’t even smoke…”

 

Steve sighs an exasperated sound, “ Awesome, so you’re telling me he took ‘em for kicks?”

 

“ Probably doesn’t think you should have them…”

 

Steve makes a sputtering sound, “ whatever… why does he let you in?”

 

Jonathan shrugs, crinkling the shoulders of his corduroy jacket, “ Don’t know, pity maybe...”

 

Steve makes a humming noise and relaxes as some of the earlier tension dissipates. He looks around the room a bit more, taking it all in before staring at the blonde again. He watches as Jonathan places another photo in the developer. There is no twitch or clumsiness to his gestures. Fingers move about delicately, practiced. Steve is transfixed again, they both lapse into silence. Jonathan almost forgets the brunette is there until he feels a soft press of a hand on his shoulder. He hears a low, “ See you around Byers.” And then the door is clicking shut, leaving Jonathan alone again.

 

 


	2. Play for Today

It’s Nancy’s pleading blue eyes that spur Jonathan from his seat next to her and over to the boy sitting by himself with a book in hand. It’s when he’s about three feet from the cafeteria table Steve’s posted at does Jonathan realize he doesn’t know what to say.

The conversation the couple had had a few moments prior began when Nancy had trailed off in her sentence, her big eyes scrunching in sadness as they laid heavy on a lone figure. The blonde didn’t have to look to know who it was.

“Do you think- w-would you mind if we invited Steve over?” Nancy ducked her head slightly in guilt as she looked at Jonathan. He sighed and looked over at the older boy. Steve didn’t look necessarily bothered by the lack of company. But then again, he didn’t know him well enough to read him.

“Nance I don’t think he’d appreciate being treated like a charity case- especially by us, don’t you think?” he said evenly.

“But he’s not! He said he was okay with- with everything… I just hoped we could be friends. He needs people his own age, not just our brother’s and their friends…” She poked at her mash potatoes with her fork sulkily. Nancy stared back up at him helplessly. He nodded once and stood.

This is how he ends up in front of Steve Harrington, mouth slightly open, at a loss for words until he’s spotting the title of the book the brunette’s holding . Steve glances up from said book curiously. “What’s up Byers?”

“Um, are you reading ‘Seventh Heaven’?” Jonathan can’t suppress the surprise in his voice. He just didn't peg Steve as the Patti Smith type. Steve turns the cover over and sure enough Patti’s dark fringe and eyes peek up at both of them.

“Sure am, what about it?” He asks, a tad defensive.

“Oh- nothing- I just didn’t know you knew who she is...” Jonathan shrugs.

“Yeah well, there’s a lot you don’t know about me Byers.” There’s no heat to Steve’s words. He just sounds worn down and tired. This observation makes Jonathan really look at other boy. Steve’s eyes are bloodshot and stand out above gloomy rings. His shoulders aren't slumped but there’s a rigidness there, built up tension. His hair is just as voluminous as ever but it seems to lack the luster it once had. They haven't spoken since a couple weeks back in The Dark Room and Jonathan hadn’t anticipated them speaking anytime soon but... things change.

“Come sit with us.” Jonathan says without really thinking.

Steve’s hazel eyes meet his, eyebrows rising, forehead creasing. Jonathan can feel Nancy’s earnest gaze boring into them. Steve bites his lip, uncertain. Jonathan tries a different approach.

“Scared Harrington?”

The blonde’s words have the desired effect. Steve’s eyes narrow, he smirks daringly before shutting the book and grabbing his things to join them.

“You wish Byers.”

 

 


	3. Mint Car

Steve, though he wouldn’t admit it outloud, is thankful for whatever prompted Jonathan and Nancy to invite him over that day. He knows it was probably pity but pushes the thought away in favor of just enjoying the company of people his age. Not to say the kids aren’t a blast, he loves those little bastards. There’s an understanding, mutual trauma, that ties the trio together, transparent threads twining them all up. Steve knows those threads are delicate and is determined not to let them tangle or tear. It’s strange at first, watching Nancy lean heavily on Jonathan's shoulder instead of his. Seeing her fall asleep during “Harold and Maude” as Jonathan unconsciously adjusts his body so she’s more comfortable. Steve observes this from the corner of his eye. He doesn’t feel resentment-well maybe a tad if he’s honest, but it’s mainly loneliness making his stomach clench.

 

The couple makes an attempt to limit their public affection, for Steve’s benefit, he’s sure. This makes his insides burn more. Nancy kisses Jonathan on the cheek when he’s around. Jonathan still blushes profusely every time. Steve want’s to snort and roll his eyes but he’s keenly aware of the fewer threads binding him to Jonathan than to Nancy. His snarkiness may cause the blonde to build more walls between them instead of taking the one he already has down, and Steve just can’t have that.

 

Everytime he knocks on the door to pick up Dustin, and whoever else needs a ride home, Jonathan answers. Steve can see his guard coming down, smiling with more ease each time he opens the door. This is progress and he feels a bit lighter each time he reverses out of the Byer’s driveway.  

 

_____________________________________

 

It’s a Friday, the air is brisk and the browning leaves crunch under both boys feet. Steve and Jonathan bundle into the blonde’s car and wait for Nancy to get out of her fourth period for lunch. Steve was quick to skip Economics and Jonathan had a study period.

 

The Brunette’s back hits the passenger seat with a thud and he groans.  A shiver crawls up his spine, he crosses his arms over his chest. Jonathan turns on the heat and puts in a new tape. Steve rests his head against the window, breath painting tiny grey clouds on the glass.

 

_“Protect me from starving_

_I'm eighteen_

_Protect me you_

_I don't know what to do”_

 

Steve mumble sings the last three lines, his eyes are closed but he can feel Jonathan's intense stare. “What is it Byers? Didn’t know you had the next Bowie in your midsts?” He cracks one eye open, the one that isn't swollen purple, and smirks.  

 

The blonde huffs a laugh,” Yea sure, you’re a natural,” and rolls his eyes for extra effect.

Steve lets his lids droop once more, listens to Kim Gordon's voice fill up the car. But he can still feel those eyes. The brunette sighs deeply.

 

“Steve?”

 

He cracks an eye to take in Jonathan’s nervous demeanor. He’s all shifty eyes and pressed lips.

 

“What’s up man?”  He has a queasy feeling he already knows.

 

“If you… If you ever need a place to stay to like- get away from home… my house is available…” Jonathan makes eye contact now, earnest dark eyes boring into Steve’s only good one. Steve doesn’t say anything at first. Lets the extended hand, metaphorically, rest between them. He chews on the words, tasting kindness.

 

“Thanks Jonathan.” He says softly after a moment. The blonde nods once and turns up the music.

 

_____________________________________

 

Jonathan asks Steve to pick up the boys, Max and El from the arcade because he has to work late at the theater. Steve obliges and smiles as he watches the kids scramble into the backseat. Max rides shotgun.

 

“Seatbelt,” he tells Max. She rolls her eyes but listens with a bit of a smile.

“Double buckle back there!” He says while looking in the rear view.  They grumble but do as their told.  

 

“Is that from Billy?” Max asks softly. Steve does a double take and almost laughs. He glimpses the shiner in the mirror. Yikes.

 

“Jesus, no. Don’t worry about it, kid.” He smiles reassuringly and her fear noticeably lessons. Ugh, the last fight with Hargrove hadn’t been pretty. He hates that the kids had to watch his ass get handed to him but they insist on his heroic-ness despite the fact. “ What happened then Steveo?” Dustin pipes up from the back.

 

“Just got into it with some asshole. No big deal.” Which wasn’t the complete truth but hey, they didn’t need to be exposed to his shitty home life. They drop it and resume their discussion about who would win in a fight, Batman or Wonder Woman.

Steve smiles and bets on the later.

 ______________________________________

 

Jonathan opens the front door and is greeted to the sight of all the kids- and Steve- huddled around a D&D board. Steve smiles sheepishly up at him and Jonathan chuckles. The brunette follows the shorter boy into the kitchen.

 

“How was work?”

 

Jonathan tosses his keys onto the coffee table and sighs,” Same as always. My boss is a bit of a dick.”

 

Steve nods and makes a _hmm_ noise. Jonathan's dedication to his family is definitely an admirable trait. Steve is beginning to understand Nancy now. He couldn’t care less about his own parents. But his mother wasn’t like Joyce. She didn’t envelope Steve in a hug when she got off work. Hell, his mother didn’t even work like Joyce did. He supposes Jonathan's dad and his own father are somewhat tied for the Worst Parent Award. It’s no secret the senior Byers was a deadbeat asshole. The whole town knew about Lonnie Byers. Steve’s thoughts come to a halt when the blonde tosses a Coke his way.

 

“Hey, thanks for picking up Will and his friends.”

 

Steve looks at the kids messing around in the living room, “It’s no problem.”

 

Jonathan watches the fond look overcome Steve’s features and a foreign affection for the older man settles in his chest. Damn. Leave it to Steve Fucking Harrington to weasel his way into the small number of people he really cares for.

 

 

 


	4. Disintegration

Johnathan's calloused fingers are knotted in Nancy’s cashmere sweater. He’s settled between her thighs, kissing her soft mouth lazy and slow. He kisses her neck and feels her gasp against his ear. It’s Wednesday after school, Nancy has a few hours before her mother summons her home. Will is at Nancy’s with Mike, safe and out of the house. Jonathan gently glides his hand under her sweater to rest on her hip, but doesn’t wander. He’s nibbling just below her jaw when he hears her voice through the haze of hormones.

 

“Jonathan?” She mumbles. He hums against her neck in response.

 

“I-* _gasp”,_ he bites a bit too sharply,“ I’m really happy y-you and Steve are getting along…” Jonathan barely registers her words but an image of Steve and his charming smirk flutters across his mind. He fumbles in his kisses and pulls away to look down at her. _Why are they talking about Steve right now?_

 

Nancy readjusts her head on his pillow, her curly brown hair a perfect fanned halo. She reaches up to run a thumb over his jaw. “I just… I’m glad you both found a friend in each other…you know, someone you can talk to about stuff…”

 

The blonde furrows his brow,” I can talk to you about stuff too Nance…”

 

She laughs an affectionate sound,” Yea of course, I know. But I mean… You can talk about boy stuff or whatever.”

 

Jonathan chuckles, “ Boy stuff?”

 

Nancy turns a light pink from how silly she thinks she must sound,” Oh nevermind, I’m just happy for the both of you is all…” She trails off and glances down, suddenly melancholy. _Barb._ The toe haired boy’s lips quirk down as he looks at his girlfriend. He caresses her cheek lightly and nudges her chin up so she looks at him. Her cerulean eyes flood with pain and guilt.

 

“Hey…” Jonathan whispers,” I’m here for you- and Steve too- whenever you need.”

He kisses her mouth softly and tastes sorrow.

 

____________________________________

 

Steve taste’s blood. It coats his tongue and stains his teeth. He catches a glimpse of himself in the rearview and grimaces. He looks like _shit_. He feels even worse. His lip is split and there are bruises blossoming on the side of his neck where a large hand gripped him too tightly. He almost turns on Nancy’s street out of a habit he thought he kicked, but he keeps driving. He speeds in silence until he reaches the Byer’s residence. When he parks it takes a moment for his thoughts to catch up with his actions. But before he can think too much he gets out of the car and moves impulsively towards Jonathan's front door. He knocks twice with his non fucked up hand. He hides the pair of bloodied knuckles in his denim pocket. The door opens to reveal Jonathan's kid brother,” Hey there Little Byer’s mind if I-” The door opens wider to reveal Jonathan clad in grey sweats and a Talking Heads shirt.

 

“Steve? What’s u- What the fuck?” The blonde begins before the flickering porch light reveals Steve’s face.

 

“Will, go to your room…” Jonathan says without looking as his younger brother.

 

“But-”

 

“Will.” Jonathan says sharply, meeting his eyes sternly. The younger nods and scampers off. The two older boys hear the door shut before Jonathan lets Steve through.

 

“Sorry, I know it’s late,” he glances over at the clock above the other’s shoulder. _11:55 pm._ “Fuck, I don’t even know what I’m doing, I-I should go-” He motions to head back to the door but Jonathan grasps his shoulder, a bit to close to the damage done. Steve winces away and the blonde’s eyes widen a fraction. His hand falls away quickly. “Sit down please... Steve c’mon please.” He motions towards the couch. The brunette walks stiffly over and drops down heavily. The younger boy hurries to the kitchen. Steve hears drawers opening and closing, glasses clinking, the faucet spewing water.

 

“ Is your mom home?” Steve suddenly whispers, worried. He hears the water shut off, a beat of silence.

 

“...She’s sleeping.” Jonathan whispers from the kitchen. Some tension bleeds from Steve’s shoulders and he sinks deeper into the umber couch. Jonathan hurries back with a glass of water and a clenched fist. He hands the glass over to the brunette and then the painkillers.

 

“Thanks…” he mutters roughly, tips his head pack and swallows. Steve tastes copper. Jonathan watches the bob of his adam's apple before turning away and walking to the kitchen again. He returns with a pot of water and a rag in hand. Steve stiffens as Jonathan crouches before him. The blonde hesitates, every move he makes is a question, asking for invitation. Steve leans forward a bit. He feels the lukewarm press of the rag as the younger man dabs at Steve’s swollen lip. Jonathan catches sight of steve’s torn up hand and gently tends to that too. Steve’s eyes fall shut and he sighs.

 

“How are your teeth?” Jonathan whispers, breaking the quiet spell. Steve counts them with his heavy tongue.

 

“All there.”

 

The blonde nods and leaves to retrieve an ice pack. Jonathan hands him the ice and motions for the brunette to follow him to his room. Steve stands with a huff and is lead down the hall and to the right. The door is shut behind him. He stands awkwardly among photos, flannels, records and tapes.

 

“Sorry for the mess…” Jonathan mutters as he looks around for something. Steve shakes his head despite the blonde’s back being turned towards him. Jonathan is putting on a record when Steve decides to clamber onto the younger's bed.  He rests his head against the wall and settles his vision on the large Clash poster above the headboard.  

 

“...Steve?” Jonathan's voice cuts through Steve’s spacey daze. He raises his eyebrows at the other boy. Jonathan moves slow and sits on the other side of him, rests his head on the same wall,”...What happened to you?” He whispers. Steve closes his eyes tightly and sees flashes of his mother crying, his father’s snarl, his father’s fist, then the wall. His guard falls and he spills.

 

Steve tells Jonathan in a detached tone about his parents arguing for hours. He tells him about the sharp shatter of glass that spurred him down the stairs. He pressed himself between his father’s outraged frame and mother’s collapsed form on the tile floor, her left cheek blooming red. Before he could register what was happening, nuckles were bruising lips and knocking teeth. He was shoved roughly against an alabaster wall, nails biting into the side of his throat. His father’s whiskey breath hot in his face. Steve could see his mother’s shaken form still lain out on the tile as she sobbed. His father turned suddenly and fled up the stairs without another word. Steve could feel rage buzz hot in his stomach, he punched the white wall, leaving scarlet stains in his wake. Hurriedly grabbed his keys from the counter and left without a backward glance. His veins thrummed with adrenaline and he just drove.

 

Jonathan doesn’t ask why Steve didn’t go to Nancy, he knows. Nancy’s parents were great and all but wouldn’t know how to handle this situation. It strikes Jonathan suddenly that Steve must feel safe, understood enough to come here and take him up on his offer. It’s a strange realization that leaves Jonathan feeling touched, despite the fucked circumstnces.  

 

“I’m sorry to burden you with all this shit- that Will saw-”

 

“Shut up, Steve.” The brunette falls silent.

 

“Promise… Promise you’ll come to me or Nancy again when he- when this happens.” Steve searches the blonde’s face, looking for something Jonathan is unsure of.

 

“...okay…” He nods eventually, “ Thanks Jonathan…”

 

“You’re welcome.”

 

This is definitely not the “boy talk” Nancy was imagining but Jonathan realizes the truth in her words from that morning. There is a kinship forming here and he finds he wants it. Happy to have it even. Despite the suffering they are both waist deep in, they may be good for each other, may be of use.

 

_“Gazing at people, some hand in hand_

_Just what I'm going through they can't understand_

_Some try to tell me, thoughts they cannot defend_

_Just what you want to be, you will be in the end”_

 

“Dude… are you playing The Moody Blues…?” Steve can’t suppress the teasing smile.

 

Jonathan feels heat flood under his eyes and possibly some shame.

 

“...It’s calming…” He mutters.

 

Steve barks out a laugh causing his lip to sting slightly, but it’s worth it to see the blonde’s  cheeks darken.

 

_________________________________

 

A yell jerks Steve from his dreamless sleep. He turns on the bedside lamp and leans over the side, takes in the huddled mass on the floor. A distressed whimper escapes Jonathan's helpless form. Steve throws the blankets aside, ignores the aching protest of his body. He crouches beside the other boy. Tears streak down the younger's face, his slender fingers clench the blanket. Steve glimpses the ghostly jagged knuckles and sucks in a breath.

 

“Jonathan. Hey, Jonathan- wake up…” Steve hesitates before placing his hand on his shoulder. Jonathan is burning and a sheen of sweat coats wan skin. Steve shakes him softly until the blonde comes to, through the dark veil of nightmares. Black eyes blink up rapidly as he gasps awake.

 

“Steve?” The boy asks brokenly.

 

“Yeah man, right here.” Steve smiles weakly down at the other man. The blonde’s taut form begins to relax with each shaky breath as he steadily regains his composure.

 

“Thanks Steve...”

 

“...It’s no problem.” Steve reaches for the nightstand and hands Jonathan his glass of water. He sits up and chugs it heartily. Steve takes in his wrinkled shirt, his matted bangs, the violet bags under his eyes. He is struck with how unfortunate they are to be so young and battle such demons. He is equally aware of how fortunate they are to find fellow feeling within each other.  This draws a tired smile from his dry and scabbing mouth. Jonathan squints his eyes in question. Steve shakes his head, bed hair flying. He takes the glass from his hands.

 

“Try and get some sleep, man.” He shuts off the light and slinks lazily back into blackness.  

 

 

 


	5. The Caterpillar

_“ When he wake up on the sea_

_He sure to think of me and you_

_He'll think about paint and he'll think about glue_

_What a jolly boring thing to do”_

 

Steve can’t get this song out of his head for the life of him. Jonathan needs to play music even when doing monotonous things like making coffee or brushing his teeth. Not that the brunette is really annoyed by this. He’s just not used to so much sound. The sound of Jonathan's raspy voice saying _Good morning,_ the sound of his laugh when he catches a glimpse of Steve catastrophic morning hair, the sound of Joyce’s soft knock and a whispered _goodbye- I love you_ , the sound her tires make when she pulls  out of the drive for work. Steve’s house doesn’t make these kinds of noises. He’s used to muffled arguments in the living room, a flight of stairs separating him from it. He knows the sound of slammed doors and then silence, the squeaky clean ring of bleach on a kitchen floor.

 

“Steve?” a gentle voice pulls him from his reverie. Nancy is leaning on the opposite side of his open locker. He meets her vast, open eyes and sees too much concern.  He has too look away. “Oh, Steve…” she whispers with bated breath. Her small porcelain hand rests gently on his forearm. He finds his voice surprisingly, forces it up through his constricted throat.  

 

“Don’t worry Nance… Johnny boy fixed me right up.” He winks.

 

Her voice breaks as she lets loose a laugh that sounds a bit like a sob. She regains her control at an impressive speed though and squares her dainty shoulders. “Good, I’m glad...” He retrieves his journal from his locker and shuts the metal door, happy to be free from Nancy’s intense stare for a moment. She loops her arm in his with casual ease and he feels an overwhelming amount of fondness at the gesture. Steve isn’t naive enough to perceive it as anything but platonic. But the thought of being just friends with Nancy doesn’t hurt as much as it used to. While they proceed down the hall to second period, Nancy stares ahead and keeps her voice low. Steve has to lean into her space to catch her words.

 

“We take care of each other...” He thinks he hears. Steve knows the word _we_ builds a home for the names _Nancy, Jonathan, and Steve._ He stares ahead of them and swallows the knot forming in his throat.

 

__________________________________

 

“Are you fucking with me…?” Steve’s hazel’s are saucers.  

 

“No, I’m serious!”

 

“Wait, wait, wait... you’re telling me you really think Morrison was better than Jagger!... okay Byers I can’t continue this, you’re just not the man I thought you were.” He can see Johnathan roll his eyes in the driver’s seat from the rear view.

 

“ You just can’t appreciate poetry.”

 

The brunette sputters,” Poetry! You call that poetry? He literally said he’d like to fuck his mother!”

 

“He was being hyperbolic! His whole philosophy was to shake up the crowd, make people uncomfortable…”

 

“You know what shakes a crowd? Spirit. Dance moves, leaping around the stage, Charlie’s drumming, that’s what! Nancy back me up, please.”

 

Her christmas sweater covered shoulders shrug,” Well Morrison was pretty attractive, he could just stand there and look good… Jagger has the whole androgyny thing ‘that’s all the rage’ though… Morrison can be a bit slow and- like too psychedelic for me…?” her voice wavers towards the end when Jonathan shoots her a betrayed expression. “... I prefer Bowie myself…” She ends. Steve makes an agreeing _mhmmm yeahhh_ noise that verges on erotic.

 

“Yeah, yeah Harrington. We all know you like your half naked, glamoured up men…” Jonathan mutters. A quick peak in the rearview reveals Steve’s pinkening ears. The blonde smirks and turns up “Break on Through.”  

 

________________________________

 

It’s Friday night.  Steve is meandering through the grocery aisles looking for his favorite tv dinners. He picks one up, mash potatoes and turkey, shrugs to himself and throws it in the cart. He slowly makes his way down the aisle, stretching every moment, to delay his inevitable arrival home. The night before, Steve returned from school to an empty house. He was relieved to say the least. His father was probably working late again, his mother at her “friends”.  He had taken a quick shower and then locked himself away in his room. Popped a tape Jonathan had sneaked into his bag when he wasn’t looking. The song “Crystal Ship” began to play, Morrison’s slow vocals emanated through the air. He rolled his eyes but the corners of his lips were quirked. He fell asleep shortly after, soothed by the piano and melodic sounds. He wasn’t going to admit anything to the blonde though.

 

Steve jerks suddenly when he feels  a wet index finger in his ear. He yelps at the intrusion and looks wildly to find the perpetrator. It’s Will. Standing on the back of a grocery cart with a devious little smile.

 

“Hey Little Byers what was that for!”

 

“I called your name like 10 times!”

 

Steve scratches the back of his neck and makes an apologetic face, “Oh- sorry, spacey I guess…”

 

Will’s eyebrows scrunch together in a question but before he can verbalise it, his older brother rounds the corner, a jar of red pasta sauce and noodles in hand.

 

“I was wondering where you w- oh, hey Steve-”

 

“Heyy, long time no see huh?” The brunette literally doesn’t know why he says this. He say the other boy earlier at lunch. Jonathan gives an odd look but smiles nonetheless.

 

“Is that what you’re eating?!” Will says incredulously. Steve looks down at the modest tv dinners stacked in the cart and turns a bit pink.

 

“Will-” Jonathan begins to scold.

 

“Yea little man. Sadly, I’m not much of a chef like your brother here.” He says easily, smiling. He can see Jonathan shift on his feet, staring at Steve’s cart, preoccupied. Will bites the corner of his mouth and looks pensive for a beat, before exclaiming,” Come over to our house for dinner!” Steve stiffens and puts his hands up as if trying to halt the situation, because really, these people keep giving him things and he kind of can’t take it. “No, no I don’t wanna put out your mom and make her cook-”

 

“Jonathan’s cooking tonight!” Steve looks from the younger brother to the eldest, who nods and smiles slightly.

 

“Just come over, man…” Jonathan says softly. Steve looks at those excited verdant eyes, then back at anticipating dark ones. He caves.

 

“Alright- but you have to let me buy the sauce!”

 

Jonathan rolls his eyes and places it in Steve’s cart, then proceeds down the aisle without a backward glance. Steve and will scramble to catch up with him.

 

________________________________

 

Steve arrives first at the Byers and parks on the side of the street, the blonde pulls into the drive with ease. Will is out in a flash and grabbing groceries. Steve grabs the sauce, forgetting his own purchases. Jonathan reminds him to put them in the freezer so they don’t unthaw. Steve still has an extra hand to help them out. The front door opens to reveal a tired, but happy Joyce. She comes out to help the boys and ushers them inside, a maternal hand on Steve’s back.

 

They enter the kitchen, Joyce’s large chestnut eyes sweep across his face. Steve looks down at his Nike sheathed toes. She doesn’t say anything though. Instead her hands come up to rest on his shoulders and run down until she grips just above his elbow. Hazel meets Chestnut. “You have a place here whenever you need or want.” Joyce’s words are firm, face thinly concealing anger. Steve wants to console her but he can’t. He coughs to clear his throat,” Thank you, Ms. Byers.”

 

“Joyce.” She smiles and releases him.

 

“Joyce.” He repeats.    

 

When Steve returns to himself he notices Jonathan busying himself with cutting mushrooms, but it’s obvious he was listening. He feels embarrassed by how exposed and vulnerable he’s been lately, but his need for affection and care are overpowering. He notices Will scampered off to the living room to watch tv. Joyce leaves take a shower, smiling over her shoulder on her way out.

 

“Anything I can help with…?” The brunette asks, feigning nonchalance.  Jonathan looks up quickly, hair rusting.

 

He gestures with the large kitchen knife, “No, no I got this man. Go entertain Will.”

 

“What am I? A show pony?”

 

The blonde pauses in his chopping and smirks up at Steve,” Um- Don’t you mean something like _show host_?”

 

Steve replays his previous words before blanching. He turns and exits the kitchen. Jonathan barks a laugh and begins boiling water.

  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I may go back an edit this chapter later cause I'm unsatisfied.  
> Thank you for the comments! Very, very appreciated :)


	6. The Forest

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WARNING: There's a graphic ,"disturbing" I guess is the word, description in the middle part of this chapter. Just wanted to give you a heads up incase that's not your cup of tea :)

Dustin is adamant about seeing the replay of The Breakfast club that’s playing at the theater on Sunday. Steve complies because he hadn’t seen it  when it was released last February and he heard it got pretty good reviews. He drives to Dustin’s house to pick him up. The younger boy bounds out the door but quickly turns around to yell to his mother a quick goodbye. Soon the passenger door is slammed shut.

 

“Hey Steveo- the rest of the guys wanna see it too! Would you mind-”

 

Steve is nodding his head and pulling away from the curb before Dustin finishes the question. He drives to the Wheeler’s as the curly haired boy instructs, where the rest of kids are hanging out. Both boys exit the car. Steve feels a bit apprehensive as he walks a few feet behind Dustin, up the Wheeler’s steps. He hasn’t been here since before the breakup. He can’t shake the unnerving realization that the last time he was in front of this white painted door, he was another man.  Well, not really, but things had changed within him since then. Then, he cared only about what his peers thought- Now, he cares more about helping whom he can. The door opens, Dustin must have rung the bell while he was spacing out.

 

Mike is in the doorway. He moves aside to invite them in, eyes lingering on Steve. There’s uncertainty emanating from the black haired boy. The brunette smiles to break the tension. He doesn’t blame the kid when the only response is the left quirk of his mouth. He’d be weary of the guy who dated his sister too… if he had a sister that is. Mike leads  them to the living room where all the kids are splayed out, lazily watching Lucas and Max play video games. Eleven’s brow is drawn as she studies the game in fascination. Will is smiling at Steve as he enters.

 

“Hey Steve!”

 

“Hey Little Byers.” He stands there awkwardly. Then claps his hands once to get all of their attention,” You guys all ready?”

 

“Where you off too?” A soft voice says from the stairs. Steve looks up to see Jonathan and Nancy, hand in hand.

 

“Uh- the movies, wanna join?”  

 

“ I can’t. I have to study for an AP chem test tomorrow…” Nancy says, her mouth angling down in apology. But Steve’s not surprised, he wouldn’t expect anything less than “Golden Star Nancy Wheeler”. He smiles reassuringly at her. “But hey why don’t you tag along?” She peers up at Jonathan. Steve raises his eyebrows at the blonde by Nancy’s side.

 

“Uh- I rather not be at the place I already wor-”

“It’s at the other theater across town.” Steve interjects.

 

“Oh- well then... sure- I guess.” Nancy kisses his cheek and releases his hand. The kids stand from their dormant positions and head towards the door. She ushers them all out before locking it. _Studying has adjourned,_ she thinks and runs back up the stairs to retrieve her notes and highlighters.

 

“Steve… How did you expect to fit all the kids in your car?”

 

The brunette looks up from unlocking the driver side door. Jonathan is standing with his hands in his pockets, looking at him in disbelief.

 

“Uh- I kinda just thought they’d like- stack on top of eachother, I don’t know-”

 

The blonde is rolling his eyes and taking steps towards his own car, waving Will, Mike, and Eleven over with him. “We’ll meet you there, Harrington.”

 

“You’re no fun Byers!” Steve waves his keys back and forth in mock fury. He kind of races the blonde there as an act of vengeance because he can’t help himself. He wins.

 

___________________________

 

“We’re seeing the Breakfast Club…?”

 

“Yeah, why? Got a problem?”

 

“No…” Jonathan's eyes are unfocused as he looks yearningly at the poster for the _Nightmare on Elm Street_ sequel.

 

Steve claps him on the back,” Next time, we’ve got kids to tend to.” He gestures to the rambunctious group of preteens bustling about to retrieve their popcorn.

 

___________________________

 

They go to the 50’s diner because Steve’s decided milkshakes are a necessity after every movie. They're all crowded in a scarlet booth sipping and eating Maraschino cherries.

 

“ Steveo’s definitely the jock.” Dustin states.

 

“ I don’t know, I’m thinking the Princess suits him more…”

 

Steve’s hazel eyes squint at the boy seated across from him,” Bite me Byers.” Jonathan smiles  around his straw. “You’re most definitely the basket case then… but don’t worry, you don’t have to get all gussied up for me to notice you.” Steve jokes with a wink.

 

Jonathan sputters a laugh,” Jesus, you flirt with anything that moves...”

 

Steve shrugs with a lazy smirk but doesn’t refute the claim.

 

__________________________

 

Sweat is beading along his hairline, collecting near his temple. He’s watching his brother lay helpless on dead leaves. Pale as a china cup. Will is convulsing, maggots and beetles swarming from his blue lips. The blonde is tugging at the boy’s flannel sleeve, shaking his chest roughly in a futile attempt to revive his collapsed form. He can’t hear anything, no rustling of branches, no steps approaching, no monster lurking behind tree trunks. He keeps jostling the body, until it begins to wither to dust. Jonathan can feel his lips crack as he tries to cry out a broken plea.

 

‘‘-athan!”

 

“Johnathan!”

 

The young man startles awake. His mother is bent over him, her face lined with heartbreak, her small hand on his damp shoulder. She pulls him close, trying to smother the terrors out with a tight embrace. He cries against her chest for a long while.

__________________________

 

The blonde intends to hide away in The Dark Room for most of Monday. Nancy’s  too preoccupied with her test to worry about the far away look in his eyes or the lethargic movements of his limbs. Jonathan’s relieved she doesn’t catch on when they meet near his locker in the morning. He tries to sink himself into her sentences. Tries to distract himself with her anxieties but he feels far off and floating. Maggots keep clouding his vision and he wants to gag. Nancy kisses him quickly, the sweetness making the bitterness in his mouth more apparent.

 

“I’m going to study in the library during lunch to cram for this test, kay?” The blonde nods and waves her off, watching her brown curls sway as she walks down the hall away from him.

___________________________

 

Jonathan locks the door and heaves a sigh, setting down his backpack. He begins the familiar process of developing. The routine has been ingrained in his muscle memory, making everything go by with little thought. He lets his mind wander, go blank, an almost meditative state. The saffron light feels soft to his eyes,  joints and muscles loosening as if it’s hot water. His gentle fingers place the photos in the developer, remove, and hang. He’s comforted by these minute actions, a process he knows and can rely on.

 

A soft knock breaks the airy spell. He places another photo on the rack. Wipes his hands on his pants before unlocking and opening the door. Harsh white light comes through the narrow crack. Steve and his voluminous hair blocks most of it though. Jonathan lets him in quietly, then shuts the door.

“I ran into Nance in the hall, she said you’d be in here… Am I disturbing you?”

 

Jonathan pushes a photo around in the developer for a moment, taking in the question. Earlier he craved nothing more than to retreat into his room and not talk to anyone. He wanted to turn up The Kinks and block everything out. Now though, he finds he doesn’t mind the other boy being there.

 

“No, no you’re fine…”

 

Steve comes up beside him then to look at the blossoming images. The scenario is bizarrely familiar, Steve feels a wave of deja’vu but throws it aside. He spots a photo of Will and Mike in the midst of an amusing argument over what looks to be a D&D round. Steve snorts, fondly. _Geeks_.

He looks at another on the line and his eyes widen a fraction. It’s difficult to be sure because the colors and shadows are still progressing in hue and form, but it looks like him. Or rather it’s his  fetus positioned body. He’s on Jonathan’s bed, facing away from the camera. His shirt riding up to expose a sliver of his left hip. He’s in a pair of Jonathan's sweats that he borrowed. There’s tapes, socks, and photos littering the blanket around him. The large Clash poster is half visible. To anyone else it would just look like a boy sleeping in his bed. But not to Steve. He knows this is the night he showed up at Jonathan's, bruised and bloody. The context makes the whole image appear vulnerable, his curled spine, his naked hip, his hidden face. He presses his lips together but can’t look away.

“...I-I’m sorry...” Steve looks over to his right. Jonathan is looking at him, tense and guilty, motioning at the photo. He reaches to remove it from the line but Steve stops him with a gentle grab of his wrist, tugs it away. Jonathan’s hand retreats, leaves the photo hanging. The brunette shakes his head.

 

“Don’t be… It’s a good photo… w- why though?” _Why me? Why me like that?_

 

Jonathan looks pensive. He stares at the photo as if trying to immerse himself back into that moment. He looks away suddenly and busies himself with removing other photos and hanging them. Steve waits.

 

The blonde coughs awkwardly,” You- you look different there, I guess.”

Steve raises his eyebrows, asking him silently to elaborate.

 

Dark eyes get shifty, uncomfortable. “You usually look… confident, self assured, you know?... _strong_ …”  The last part is muttered and Steve barely hears it.

 

So Jonathan saw it too, the _fragility_ in the image. Steve’s cheeks darken, he’s thankful his skin is already doused in cherry light. He coughs and nods, moves to another photo, the blonde follows suite.  There’s one of just Will laughing, long tree trunks in the background, fall colors making the image warm. Steve smiles, the joy he sees in those verdant eyes is overwhelming. Will’s snug in his brother’s dark sherpa jacket. It bunches at his shoulders, the sleeves much too long. His hair is mussed and windswept. Damn, did Byers know how to take a photo. There’s an audible swallow to his left making Steve look over.

Jonathan is looking down at the trays of developer. Hands quivering as he sets a photo down. His jaw is clenched, shoulders hunched slightly.

 

“H-hey, you okay man?” Steve asks softly. The blonde nods once but won’t meet his eyes. He’s quivering, and though it’s difficult to tell in this light, he appears to pale. “Johnathan, what’s up with you?” The younger boy squeezes his eyes tight and breathes harshly through his nose.

“You can tell me you kn-”

 

“No, no I can’t. You wouldn’t get it.” He says harshly. He meets Steve’s wide, confused gaze.

 

The brunette doesn’t shy away from his words though. He stares into his face, unwavering, and sees fear there. “...Jonathan…” He says delicately,” What’s bothering you?” Gentle concern is woven so deep into his words that Jonathan cracks.

 

He tells Steve about the maggots. About his brother’s mouth and eyes, wide and agape. How he couldn't hear a damn thing. How he shook and tugged at Will’s lifeless body until it crumbled in his hands, blew away with the wind. He tells him how this isn’t the worst he’s had, that there’s others, always others. Jonathan voice is breaking, he doesn’t look at Steve as he speaks, he can’t. His limbs are trembling. Suddenly he’s being enveloped. He’s surrounded by detergent and cologne, face pressed into cotton. Jonathan is struck by the realization that Steve is hugging him. He tenses before easing  into the embrace. His eyes are wet but tears don’t fall, which he’s unbearably thankful for. Steve releases him just as suddenly. He places a firm hand on his shoulder and looks down at the younger.

 

“Thanks… for telling me, I mean. And uh- I’m here if you ever wanna talk about it- or-or anything.” He ends with a small reassuring smile.

 

“Smooth, Harrington...”

 

“Shut up Byers, I’m serious!” He punches him lightly in the shoulder and laughs.

  
  
  
  



	7. Another Day

Jonathan’s humming  and tapping his pencil against his notebook, his tongue peeking out slightly as he concentrates.

 

“... _Stevie Nicks_?” Steve has a scandalizing lilt to his voice, almost accusatory.

Jonathan jerks his head up and has to replay what the brunette just said. He blushes a bit when he realizes. He ducks his head and tried to re-focus on his notes.

 

“... it’s all my mom’s been playing…” He mutters. Steve smiles to himself.

 

Nancy drops her bag down on the cafeteria table with a sigh,” Sorry guys! I had to discuss something with my teacher.” Jonathan glances up briefly before plowing back into his notes. Nancy shares a look with Steve, amusement passing from hazel to cerulean.

 

“You gave him the bug…” Steve explains, taking a sip of his chocolate milk. Nancy rolls her eyes and laughs.

 

“Gotta keep my grades up for NYU…” The blonde mumbles while fiercely underlying something. Nancy smiles fondly at him but he takes no notice. Steve nods without responding. _Ugh, college? Don’t I have enough to think about, fuck._ He lets a heavy breath escape through his nostrils.

 

“So what’d you have to talk to your teacher about?”

 

Nancy looks vaguely annoyed before proceeding,” My Government teacher wants me to give an oral presentation on the penal code and I- what? Why are you laughing?-”

 

Steve is trying to stifle the sounds behind his milk, Jonathan can’t help but snort a laugh.

 

“Wha- oh, ew! Steve, god you’re _such_ a child!”

 

“Hey, he laughed too!” He vaguely gestures to Jonathan.

 

“You’re both children then.” She rolls her eyes but smiles fondly. Steve can’t find it in him to argue with that.

 

___________________________

  


“Looks like I don’t have much competition when it comes to getting woman, eh Harrington?” Billy Hargrove is leaning against his own car, a cigarette lying between grimy fingers,” Ya know… being as you’re a fag ’n all…” He drawls slow, peering down at his hand as he sucks in nicotine. His steely eyes flicking up to meet Steve’s after his pull.

 

“What are you on about, Hargrove.” The brunette says through gritted teeth. Hargrove uncrosses his feet and shifts his weight against the car, smirking. He exhales smoke, long and exaggerated, before answering.

 

“ Aw, c’mon don’t play dumb, everyone knows you’re fuckin the freak… probably fuckin this little lady too huh…” He licks his lips and smiles slow at Nancy.

 

She doesn’t give him the satisfaction of looking his way. Instead she pays attention to the whitening of Steve’s knuckles as his fingernails bite into his palm.

 

“C’mon, man loosen up a little eh?...Tell me, who’s the bitch between the two of ya? I bet it’s Byers, that little creep. Probably just takes it real good, yea?”

 

Steve’s cheeks are darkening by the second, jesus, what is with this asshole? He can feel the insistent tug of Nancy’s fingers on his sleeve,” Ignore him! Come on Steve.” she hisses low. But Steve feels blood flooding his ears.

 

“Hey guys, sorry I-” Jonathan stops short, feeling the thick cloud of tension he just walked into. He takes in Steve’s clenched hand, Hargrove’s lazy smirk, Nancy’s nervous eyes.

 

“Well, well, well-  if it isn’t the _Carrie_ of Hawkin’s High. I bet you’re pretty tired from just takin’ it all night huh?”

 

“Don’t you-” Steve begins to snarl.

 

“Both of you! In the car now!” Nancy grips them firmly by the wrist and pulls. Steve sees red but lets Nancy restrain him. Jonathan looks concerned, distraught but he concedes.

 

“Knew you were a pussy Harrington! Need a girl to-”

 

“Fuck off Hargrove!” Nancy viciously throws over her shoulder as she pushes both boys towards the car.

 

Jonathan unlocks the driver’s side, Steve climbs into the backseat. Nancy buckles herself in immediately and gives the blonde an impatient look when he won’t immediately start the car. He looks over at the brunette in the back. Steve’s arms are crossed, he’s fuming. He doesn’t look at Jonathan. The blonde glances back to Nancy with confused eyes. She just shakes her head. He starts the car  and pulls out of the school parking lot.

 

____________________________

 

Their at the same diner from Sunday night. Nancy is trying to make small talk and breeze over the incident with Hargrove. But Jonathan’s replies are short and distracted. His dark eyes keep making their way towards Steve,  who’s across the table from them, fiddling with the wrapper to his soda straw, distant. Nancy sighs heavily.

 

“Okay, am I going to explain what happened or are you?” Nancy’s voice is soft but makes the brunette wince nevertheless. He gives her a betrayed look for even bringing it up. Jonathan perks up at the mention of the elephant in the room, waiting now. Steve drops his head low and scratches the back of his neck before leaning back against the booth. He gives an exasperated sigh and looks out the window before waving his hand, surrendering.

 

Nancy proceeds to recite to Jonathan what happened in his absence. She imitates Hargrove’s condescending demeanor to a T. Steve’s ears are pinkening, he can’t watch the blonde’s expression as the story is relaid. He looks out the window and almost wishes for a Demogorgon to eat him alive. When she finishes there’s a long stretch of silence. Steve feels his fingers jittering and breaks his resolve; he looks at the other boy.

 

Jonathan’s lips are pursed, cheeks a tad flushed. He’s shifty eyed as he tries to avoid his gaze. But something in Steve has solidified, he is determined to see the blonde’s reaction- he won’t look away this time. The blonde coughs awkwardly before breathing in a deep breath and letting it out through his nose. He meets Steve’s eyes then. Steve is a bit surprised to find mischief there instead of uncomfortability.

 

“Ya know… For someone who claims to be straight… he seems pretty curious about our sex life...”

 

Steve chokes a laugh.

“Imaginarily speaking, of course...” He mutters but is holding back a grin at the brunette’s reaction. Steve and Nancy have identical smiles as they laugh. The strain eases from Steve’s shoulders and is replaced with relief. Relief that the other boy isn’t wary of being around him after the embarrassingly awkward explanation Nancy gave. Just like that, the tension is broken.

 

___________________________

 

“Jonathan?” Nancy asks quietly. They’re laying in his unmade bed. The Smiths creating a low hum.

 

“Hmm?” He says, half awake.

 

“I’m worried… about Steve.”

 

Jonathan rolls over on his side to face her. He opens one eye slowly and then the other. She’s laying on her back, head turned towards him. He brushes a curl of  honey brown hair away from her cheek. Her cerulean eyes look at him in earnest. He sighs.

 

“ I know… He really lets that asshole get to him.”

 

Nancy’s eyebrows furrow for a moment before softening.

”No, no… not about Hargrove- I mean that whole thing is awful too but I- I mean about his family… his dad…”

 

Jonathan tenses. “ I know, I hate it too…”

 

“I just- how can he- how can he do that? To his own son for god’s sake!” She looks thoroughly tormented now. He offers her a sympathetic smile that easily conveys how well _he knows_ how a father can do that to their son.

 

“ Oh- I know you- fuck, I just-”

 

“It’s okay Nance…”

 

“But it’s not! How can you say that?” Her voice cracks.

 

“...Because that’s all I can say. Listen, I can’t stand it either but those are his parents-” Nancy snorts an indignant sound. “And- and he can’t move out yet... In the meantime… we gotta just look after him. Take care of him cause… cause that’s all we can do…”

 

“We can tell Hopper!” She says suddenly.

 

The blonde shakes his head. “No, you know he’d hate us if we told- and he can’t lock his father up-”

 

“Why not!”

 

“He probably still loves him Nance, despite… you know...” His voice softens and his eyes flicker down. Nancy turns on her side and buries her head in his chest. She lets loose a helpless sigh and he feels her shutter. Jonathan almost wishes Steve was there so he could comfort them _both_.

 

 

 


	8. M

Steve’s father hasn’t looked him in the eye since the incident. He feels rage kindle under the surface of his skin. He wants him to look at his only son and feel a crippling guilt. But he doesn’t look. And he doesn’t feel anything. His mother busies herself  polishing the China and booking a flight to her sisters. His father is on his way to the airport this morning for a business trip, before Steve’s risen from bed to shower. When he does go down the well vacuumed stairs, the house is vacant. The emptiness reaches his body, eats up any feeling until he feels hollowed out- another piece of furniture in the quiet house.

 

His hand’s reach his parent’s liquor cabinet with ease. He sits at the island in the center of the kitchen and has rum for breakfast. He feels his throat burn as his stomach fills with warmth. But the majority of the heat flees quickly, only lingering in his cheeks. He dials Jonathan's number, asks to be driven to school because his car “won’t start.”

 

When Jonathan arrives, Steve looks briefly at the blond and offers a sheepish smile,” Thanks, man.” He mumbles before looking out the window at the barren trees and fallen snow.  

 

“No problem.”  He watches Steve’s long fingers twist the volume up. Pink Floyd’s _Time Machine_ filling the silence between them. He doesn’t comment on the brunette’s quiet demeanor or the pink tinge to his face. _It’s probably the cold..._ He thinks. Nancy’s worried blue eyes come to mind and he sighs to himself. She’s right to be concerned. He just doesn’t know how to express it to Steve, or if he should at all. Friends are new for Jonathan, he doesn’t wanna fuck this up. Afterall, that’s what he and Steve are now, _friends._

 

He glances at the other boy as they park in the lot. Steve looks resistant to getting out of the car. He’s worrying his bottom lip as he looks vacantly out the window, not taking in their surroundings at all. He jumps when Jonathan’s hand closes around his shoulder.

 

“Steve?” He asks quietly.

 

“Sorry...didn’t get much sleep last night…” Is all he says.

 

Jonathan bites the corner of his mouth. Steve offers him a quick smile that doesn’t reach his eyes. Jonathan pulls the keys out of the ignition and hands them to Steve. Hazels stare fully at him now, confused.

 

“Just lock up after you get out.” Is the only explanation he receives. Steve takes the keys hesitantly. He watches the blonde open the driver’s side door and get out. Jonathan ducks his head down to peer at him through the window.

 

“At least join us for lunch?”

 

Steve nods once and smiles a bit bigger now. Jonathan turns, bag slung over his shoulder, and heads to class. Steve’s head falls back against the headrest and he closes his eyes. Sleep creeps up on him fast.

 

_______________________

 

During first period Jonathan tells Nancy that Steve’s asleep in his car. Her eyes widen like he knew they would. She stops writing her notes and their math teacher’s voice fades further into the background.

 

“Is he okay?” She whispers, immediately shaking her head at herself. She knows he’s not _okay_.

 

“He’s said he didn’t sleep well… so I gave him my keys, told him to meet us for lunch after he woke up…”

 

Nancy’s eyes soften and gleam with affection. He blushes at her expression and shrugs.

“Thought he could use some rest…” He mumbles, looking back at his notebook and making spirals on the page. Nancy doesn’t say anything. Just nods and smiles softly. They both resume the appearance of listening, lost in their own thoughts as they scribble half-assed notes down.

_________________________

 

Steve eventually joins them halfway through lunch. Most of the rum is slept off by then. He tosses the keys to Jonathan, grins slightly in thanks.

 

“Did you lock it?”

“Yup, sure did Byers.” He reaches over the table and plucks a fry from Nancy’s tray before popping it in his mouth.

 

“So your car wouldn’t start this morning?” Nancy inquires.

 

Steve looks down quickly before glancing up to meet her bright gaze. “Yup, damn thing. I’ll check it out later, probably needs to be taken’ in.”

 

“I can have a look at it if you want.” Jonathan offers.

 

Steve shakes his head, tresses of hair flying,” No need Byers, I got it taken care of- no worries.”

 

Jonathan nods, uncertain, before continuing to eat his lunch. Steve can feel Nancy’s eyes linger longer though. He’s struck with the fact that she _knows_ him, can probably tell when he’s lying. The thought unnerves him but he doesn’t show it. At least he hopes he doesn’t, hopes Nancy doesn’t catch on. If she does, she doesn’t say anything.

______________________

 

Nancy gives Jonathan a look that loosely translates to _don’t leave him alone, please._ He shuffles his feet, hands in his pockets before glancing up to meet her eyes. _I know Nance, I won’t._ He watches her purse her lips, look over his shoulder, draw her school books closer to her chest. Steve must be approaching behind him. Soon enough, Jonathan feels a solid hand clap his back. He looks over his shoulder to see a tired but smiling Steve. Jonathan smiles back on instinct.

 

“Ready to go, Byers?” He says.

 

Jonathan bobs his head in answer. Nancy leans up on her toes to kiss Jonathan’s cheek. Steve averts his eyes during the interaction, looking to his right at nothing in particular. He’s drawn back by Nancy’s soft squeeze around his upper arm. He looks down to meet her soft eyes and can’t help a small smile. She doesn’t conceal her concern well, it’s practically radiating off of her, gleaming in her pupils. He coughs and she draws her hand back hesitantly. Jonathan motions towards the doors, turns to leave. Steve takes his cue.

 

“Be good boys!” She calls after them.

 

Steve gives her a mischievous smile over his shoulder, Jonathan just rolls his eyes.

 

________________________

 

Steve is surprised when Jonathan doesn’t turn in the direction of his house, instead he makes his way home. Steve doesn’t ask and Jonathan doesn’t offer up any explanation. The brunette feels a spark of happiness at the prospect of not returning home just yet. Bowie’s voice helps his mood but he can’t stop his thoughts.

 

_“So the days float through my eyes_

_But still the days seem the same_

_And these children that you spit on_

_As they try to change their worlds_

_Are immune to your consultations_

_They're quite aware of what they're going through”_

 

Steve can’t shake the image of Nancy’s cerulean eyes, how she peered at him all day but never said a thing. He thinks of  the stillness that settles in Jonathan’s dark gaze whenever Steve’s act slips up. He knows they’re worried but he’s not prepared to fall apart on them.

 

Jonathan parks the car and gets out without a word. Steve follows, hugging his jacket closer to him. Both boys scramble inside once the door is unlocked, saved from the cold. Will is at Mikes and Joyce is at work, leaving the house empty. But their presence is palpable. Joyce’s ashtray is on the coffee table, black with fresh embers. Will’s comic books are left scattered and open on the couch and floor. It’s nice, Steve concludes. _It must be nice seeing evidence of people actually living here…_ He muses. Jonathan drops his bag next to the couch, Steve left his in the car. They make their way down the hall.

 

Steve kicks off his shoes, settles comfortably on Jonathan’s bed. He takes in the many posters and mismatched socks, feels a contentment of some kind settle in his stomach where the rum had earlier. He finds he prefers this warmth more. Jonathan puts on a record. Steve’s a little surprised to hear _The Cure_ ’s melodic bells and guitar. He decides not to comment, nothing really snarky to say. Jonathan steps over tapes and clothes to reach the door as he slips out. Steve can hear bustling in the kitchen, he smiles to himself.

 

He curls into the corner on the bed, socked feet dipping under the covers. The photo Jonathan took of him flutters into his mind, makes him turn a bit pink. He wonders suddenly if Nancy’s seen the photo, wonders of she saw the same thing they did. If she’d marvel at the image the way Jonathan intended, or draw back the way Steve had. His lids slide shut for a moment, he tries to just be still, quiet his thoughts. But he can’t run away from images of _their_ concerned faces. It makes him feel sick.

As if on cue, Jonathan slides through the door with two mugs of tea. Steve slowly sits up right, extending his hand to take it.

 

“Oh wow, thanks dude.”

 

“Yea.” Jonathan says smiling simply, but he looks preoccupied, eyes distant.

 

Steve is disarmed by a passing thought. _What if this is out of pity, is that why he took me here?_

 

“Did Nancy ask you to do this?” He has no impulse control.

 

“...Do what?”

 

“Did she ask you to take me here...hang out with me…”

 

Jonathan leans against his dresser heavily, mug in hand. He looks around the messy floor before answering. Steve can tell he’s figuring out how to respond, he’s dreading the answer, hating himself a bit for asking.

 

” I mean,  I guess?” Steve’s stomach clenches. “But I also wanted to ‘cause… we’re friends... aren’t we?” The blonde’s voice quiets towards the end.

 

Steve’s taken back by the question but regains his composure quickly. “Yes, of course.”

 

Jonathan smiles into his mug then, shy and pleased. Steve’s feels his heart stutter a bit but chooses not to analyze it. _It’s the rum, has to be the rum still._

 

Jonathan makes his way over to his bed and lays next to Steve with easy movements. The brunette notices the grace he takes on in his own home, so different from his twitchy, unsure nature in school. Steve feels a pang of guilt at how he used to contribute to that behavior.

 

“She is worried about you though… we both are.” He says once he’s settled on his back, hands folded over his stomach.

 

Steve’s eyes flicker down to his huddled knees. He’s on his left side facing Jonathan, back inched near the wall. He sighs an exhausted sound.

 

“ Tell her I’m okay…”

 

“Are you?” The question is soft. Steve glances up to meet Jonathan’s dark eyes. The brunette doesn’t reply fast enough. “Does it happen… often?”

 

Steve closes his eyes, thinking of the handful of instances his father had left him a bit blue under the collar. “Only a few times…” He mumbles. “Nancy didn’t tell you about _that_ huh?” The question comes out a bit bitter. His mouth tastes like acid. He presses his right hand into his eyelids, trying to soothe the ache there. Jonathan doesn’t answer.

 

“I didn’t take you here out of pity or whatever. If that’s what you were asking earlier…I just wanted to be with you- to hang out I mean…” He finishes lamely. Jesus, having friends was difficult the blonde realized. He never knew what to say or how to say it. He glances over at Steve and is surprised to see him grinning.

 

“Aw, you getting sweet on me Byers?”

 

“Shut up.”

 

Steve stifles a laugh into his left arm.

 

“Stay over.”

 

“What?” The brunette is caught off guard by the insistance. The blonde hesitates before repeating.

 

“Just spend the night, you don’t have to go…” _Home, you don’t have to go home to that empty house-_ is what Steve really hears. He nods his head _yes_ before he really knows what he’s doing. The blonde smiles softly, similar to the way Nancy does actually. Steve doesn’t know what to with that observation but he feels too warm to care.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I might go back and fix up this chapter and expand but we'll see, I'm uncertain.  
> I was thinking of starting to name all the songs referenced throughout the chapters down in the notes- incase anyone is interested or doesn't know :)


	9. The Blood

“You draw?” Jonathan’s voice breaks through the spell Lou Reed has cast. Steve’s hunched in the corner of Jonathan’s bed, humming, with a notebook in hand. He snorts a laugh at Jonathan’s unconcealed surprise. He seemed to be in a constant state of shock around Steve, but perhaps that went both ways more often than not.

 

“ Yu _p_.” Steve replies, distracted, the _p_ making a _popping_ sound.

 

“How long?”

 

Steve looks up then, surprised the conversation is continuing, “Uh… I guess since I was a kid, like eight?”

 

He’s never really talked to anyone about it. His parents never payed attention; Tommy would probably have called him queer for showing any interest outside of football and video games. The only reason he’s talking about it now he presumes is because 1) Steve had felt comfortable enough to take out the sketchbook and work in it mindlessly, and 2) Jonathan _does_ pay attention.  

 

“Huh.... Can I see?” The question is hesitant just like the brunette feels.

 

Steve bites the inside corner of his mouth and looks up at Jonathan’s face, the curious tilt to his head. He hands over the book without another thought but there’s an anxious taste in his mouth that he tries to swallow down. Maybe it’s because Jonathan is an artist himself- not that he would likely ever claim to be, but Steve feels the title is appropriate given the photos he’s seen the other boy take. Steve watches the blonde run his index finger over the spiral of the book gently. His eyes are intense as they take in every detail of the image he’s drawn. Steve looks away, twirls his thumbs, looks for something else to distract him. There’s a nakedness that settles in his gut he’s still getting used to showing. Especially to Jonathan. He feels like over the last few weeks, his true colors have been punched out of him- no pun intended- dripping and there for the other boy to see. It makes the impulse to run kick in but he doesn’t move. Continues sitting on Jonathan’s bed, awaiting his critique.

 

“You’re incredible- I mean these- these are really good.” Jonathan stammers.

 

Steve’s neck snaps upward to look at the blond. Jonathan is standing to the left of the bed, near the nightstand and lamp. He’s not looking at Steve, busy analyzing the page. When he does look up though, he’s blinded by the brunette’s huge, thankful grin. Jonathan smiles back, feeling privileged to make Steve light up like that. He hands the book back so the older boy can continue. Jonathan shuffles over to the tape player, changing it for Talking Heads.

 

Steve looks down at the recent drawing, taking in the detailed leaves and spiraling bark of tree trunks. There’s a stretch of train track coming out towards the viewer. Two lone figures are walking the tracks, one with a bike, the taller with a bat in hand. He feels pride quirk the corners of his lips. Maybe he’d show Dustin, Maybe he wouldn’t. _Speaking_ of the little bastard:

“Hey Steveooo! Stop making out with Nancy’s boyfriend- we need a dungeon master!” The voice is muffled but he can hear it pretty clearly from the other side of the wall. He glances up at Jonathan, sees his pinkening ears.

 

“You’ve been summoned.” Is all the blonde says.

“Please, come with me man.” Steve half pleads.

 

Jonathan barks a laugh and nods an okay. He’s feeling generous today he supposes. Or maybe he just hasn’t mastered the art of saying _no_ to _Steve Harrington_.

______________________________

 

A rush of water hits the back of his neck, Steve feels his shoulders drop. He closes his eyes as the soreness leaks from his muscles, mingles with the water before heading towards the drain. He rests his head on the yellow tile behind him. It’s Friday, for which Steve is very thankful for. Jonathan took off work so he could watch all the kids while Joyce goes out with a friend. Steve offered to help and Jonathan rolled his eyes, knowing Steve was basically an extra kid to look after, he said _yes_ nonetheless. Now, Steve just has to shower and be on his way. Then can begin his evening with the kids- and Jonathan.  He’s pulled from his post gym haze by a gruff mumble.

 

“That ex bitch of yours has got quite a mouth on her…”

 

Steve eyes flick open, he straightens as he takes in Billy Hargrove’s lurking frame. He has one arm hiked up on the shower wall, leaning heavily on one side. His steely eyes are unwavering, holding Steve’s gaze, daring. Steve doesn’t take the bait though. Instead he rests his head back against the tile and rolls his eyes up until he’s looking at the spit ball covered ceiling.

 

“Bet she’s a dirty thing in bed.”

 

Steve feels his jaw clench but he doesn’t acknowledge him.

 

“Must hurt knowing you lost her to that freak. How can you take it Harrington? Knowing he fucks her like you used to... You ever wonder if he’s better? Maybe that’s it. Maybe he satisfies her the way you couldn’t. Ouch, that’s gotta sting…”

 

Steve closes his eyes and tries to rein in his temper. Nancy isn’t here to hold him back this time. His skin is crawling with thinly veiled hatred. _Couldn’t he just leave him alone?_

 

“I don’t buy that whole buddy buddy shit.”

 

Steve looks at Hargrove then, brow furrowed, confused and waiting.

 

“You hate him and you’re just waiting to steal that bitch back huh? Keeping’ friends close and enemies closer kinda thing?”

 

“Not everyone’s a snake like you Hargrove…” Steve mumbles. He crosses his arms, comfort decreasing by the second.

 

Hargrove continues prodding,” But it’s either that or- you’re just as queer as he is... Who woulda guessed? King Steve by day, Queen Steve by night.”

 

The brunette’s shoulders tense, he feels his face burn a little brighter. _What is up with this guy?_

“Wheeler know the shit you and the freak get up to when she ain’t around? I bet you fool her real good. She don’t know her boy lets you fuck ‘em hard?... Damn, ain’t that a shame. Bet she’d dump him fast, come crawlin’ over-”

 

Steve’s teeth are beginning to ache from how fiercely he’s clenching them. He thinks back to Jonathan’s joke a few days back. Hargrove’s sentence fizzles out as he watches a lazy smirk cut Steve’s face.

 

“Ya know something Hargrove? You seem to have an avid interest in what Byers and I do. At first I thought it was you just being a dick… Of course, that still stands but- Now, I’m thinking there’s something more too it…”

 

Hargrove squares his shoulders and juts his chin out, eyes narrowing.

 

“- Some repressed shit going on with you I’d say.”

 

“You a therapist?” Hargrove hisses.

 

“Don’t take a degree to see you aren’t facing up to something. So tell me? You like imagining Byers and I like that? ‘Cause I think you do. I think it makes you feel better about being-”

 

A fist is colliding with his jaw, he sees black spots and stars dancing about his vision. The back of his head knocks the tile, he can feel the heat of blood pull around his teeth, taste the familiar copper of it. His body sags against the wall as Hargrove steps closer into the spray. Steve shoves at the guy's shoulders when he comes too close. Hargrove stumbles back into a solid form. He turns around to meet the stern gaze of their gym teacher. Green eyes hastily take in the scene, Steve’s scarlet and purpling jaw and Hargrove’s furious, shaking form. Mr. Fredricks hauls the mullet haired boy by the arm and away from Steve.

 

“Let go of me you prick!” He shouts. The teacher tells him to change out of his towel, get dressed before meeting him in his office. Mr. Fredricks turns back around and points to Steve with his index finger.

 

“Get dressed Harrington and have the Nurse take a look at that.”

 

Steve has his pants on fast, is pushing out the door towards the parking lot in flustered hurry. He shakes his hair out as he walks, droplets sliding down his neck, soaking his collar. He spits out blood as he approaches Jonathan’s car. He sees the serene look on the other boy’s face through the window, head back against the head rest, eyes closed, the hum of Sonic Youth spilling out from a crack in the window.  

 

“Hey, what took so- What the fuck man!” Jonathan says, wide eyed as Steve opens the door and climbs in.

 

“What happened?” The blonde reaches out to tilt Steve’s jaw towards him. The brunette winces but lets him examine the damage.  

 

“Hargrove.” He winces again when Jonathan’s thumb skims the violet bruise. The blonde lets his hand fall, gives Steve an exasperated look.

 

“He- he kept saying shit about you and Nance… and I don’t know. I thought about that thing you said- ya know, about him having like an interest in our- in us-” He hopes he’s making some kind of sense because he can’t bare spelling it out for Jonathan, afraid to make it awkward again. _Fuck_ ,  his jaw and teeth are _aching_. “ I kinda egged him on… said I thought he had some repressed shit to work through…”

 

“So you basically implied he was gay?” Jonathan’s brow is scrunched, but something is curling at the edges of his mouth. Steve thinks it’s amusement but he can’t be sure.

“Yea…” He sighs.

 

Jonathan snorts a laugh, tries to cover it when Steve jerks his head up to look at him.

“Damn, you can’t keep your mouth shut huh? Not to save your life...”

 

“What!” He winces, “ Yes, I can but he was-”

 

“Yea, yea I know… You were trying to defend me and Nance... But really, please be more...careful...I’m running out of band aids.”

 

Steve chuckles and rolls his eyes,” Yeah, yeah Byers...Just get me cleaned up, I know how much you like playing Nurse.” The brunette smiles when he feels a light punch to his shoulder, hears the engine start, the volume turn up.

 

  


	10. Friday I'm In Love

Jonathan’s keys jiggle the lock open. Steve tries to conceal his shaking hands by shoving them deep into his denims. The nerves haven’t quite left him. Adrenaline makes his shoulders taught and his lips tight. He hurriedly follows Jonathan into the warm house.

 

“Steveo! What took you--shit! What _happened_?” Dustin’s nose scrunches as he takes in the violet hues bruising Steve’s once porcelain skin.

 

Jonathan’s lips purse but he remains quiet as he makes his way to the kitchen, leaving Steve to explain recent events.

 

Steve shrugs,” Nothing ol’ Steve can’t handle kid… Don’t worry your curly head about it.” He hears the freezer shut and Jonathan quickly reenters the living room. The blond jerks his head towards the bathroom down the hall. Steve smiles reassuring at all the kids and follows after him. Dustin stares at his retreating back, concern furrowing his brow.

 

*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*

 

Steve leans heavily against the sink in the bathroom. Jonathan is grabbing neosporin from the cabinet above the toilet. Some of the adrenaline bleeds away, leaving the brunette tired and aching. He hisses as Jonathan prods an index finger against his jaw.

 

“Ouch! What are you doing?”

 

“Inspecting.”

 

“Didn't your mother teach you to be gentle?”

 

Jonathan snorts a laugh,” I’m not my mother.”

 

“Yea? What would she have done?”

 

Jonathan shrugs while applying the neosporin with a calloused thumb.

“I don’t know, kiss it to make it better I guess...”

 

Steve raises his eyebrows at the comment. Jonathan pauses as the air shifts. The blonde flushes as he realises what he just said, what he may have just implied. He coughs awkwardly, hand dropping from Steve’s face. Jonathan’s pushes the ice pack into Steve’s hands and puts the neosporin back into the cabinet before quickly exiting the bathroom.

Steve closes his eyes and presses the ice to his swollen face. He runs over the events in the shower, feels proud that he had the upper hand. Not so proud that he got another bruised up face. Jesus, what kinda role model for the kids was he? Getting into fights every other week. He sighs and runs a hand through his disheveled hair. Maybe Billy would steer clear of him for a while.

Steve snorts, doubting his luck.  

 

*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*

 

“Was it Billy?”

 

Steve looks over and sees Will’s large hazel eyes peering over at him. All the kids are passed out in the heap of pillows and blankets on the living room floor. All except Will Byers.  Jonathan is in the kitchen making hot chocolate for Steve and Will.

 

Steve sighs. “Yea.. It was him.”

 

“Why’d he do it?”

 

Steve presses his dry lips together, wincing when is stretches the swollen skin.

“That, kid… Is a story for another night…”

 

Will looks down at his hands, contemplating.

“Was it Jonathan?”

 

Steve’s brow furrows. “Was what?”

 

“Were you doing it to protect my brother?”

 

Steve stares hard at the younger Byers.

“Yea…” He finally says, feeling defeated somehow.

 

Will nods like this makes all the sense in the world.

 

“How- why do you-”

 

“You only fight with that jerk to protect the people you care about… and you _do_ care about Jonathan.”

Steve feels like his insides are being laid across the table. Of course it isn’t a secret, Jonathan- and Nancy- both know how much they’ve come to mean to him. But having the younger Byers state this, as if his brother is Steve’s achilles heel- it makes his stomach burn.

 

Jonathan comes in right then, two steaming hot muggs of cocoa in his hands. Will unpauses the movie they were watching as if his statement didn’t just strike Steve like lightning. Jonathan settles next to the brunette, completely unaware. Through the film, Steve tries not to feel the tick in his jaw or jonathan’s leg pressed solidly against his own.

 

*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*

 

“Are you gonna tell Nance?” Steve whispers from the bed to where Jonathan is layed on the floor. There isn’t a reply for a few seconds. Steve stares ahead into the darkness of the room.

 

“Don’t you think she’ll see  Hargrove’s handywork herself?”

 

“No, I mean… I mean about what started it.”

 

“Oh… I hadn’t thought about it. Besides, I think she’d rather hear it from you, Steve.”

 

Steve turns over on his side and groans into Jonathan’s pillow.

 

“What?” Jonathan says.

 

“I said ‘It’s _embarrassing._ ’”

 

“That he got a punch in or-”

“That he keeps- he keeps- oh forget it!” Steve buries his face in the pillow again.

 

“No, what is it?” Jonathan’s quiet voice insists from the ground.

 

Steve turns over on his back again, sheets tangling around his legs. He throws an arm over his eyes, heat pulling to the surface of his face.

 

“The things he says, man… it’s like he’s reciting porn or something.”

Jonathan pauses.

“Okay… like- what does he say? I mean, was it like last time?”

Steve’s face grows hotter as he replays Billy’s words in the shower. He mumbles into the pillow once more.

 

“What?”

 

“He said he- he thinks we fool Nance. That I fuck you hard,” He swallows,”... and that she doesn’t know.”

 

Jonathan isn’t really sure what to say to that. He hears the embarrassment in Steve’s voice and wants desperately to relieve him from it, but he has a difficult time as images flood his mind. Him and Steve. Him and Steve _fucking_ . A blush spreads across his nose, up his neck. _‘Damn Hargrove’_ , he thinks.

 

Jonathan coughs into the awkward silence that’s enveloped them.

“Stop letting him get to you. He doesn’t know what he’s talking about. We don’t- we haven’t- you know he’s full of shit right?”   

 

“Yea… Yea, I know.” Steve swallows. An ache builds in his belly rivaling the pain in his jaw. He doesn’t allow himself to think on it though. Steve turns his back from Jonathan’s direction, wills sleep to come and devour him.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know it's been a long time! Hopefully this chapter is cohesive. Will try to keep this up :)


	11. (I Don't Know What's Going) On

 

 

“ I think you were right.”

 

“About which part?”

 

“About Hargrove.”

 

Steve’s brow furrows. He looks across the diner table at Nancy, watches her long lashes flutter as she blinks downward at her knotted hands. Her pink mouth is dry and pursed.

 

“ I think… I think he really wants you Steve.” She whispers above the low hymn of oldies music.

 

He’s thrown. Nancy has completely blindsided him. When he relayed the shower room story to her moments before, he expected her response to be-- well, actually he didn’t know what to expect from Nancy Wheeler ever-- but _that_ surely hadn’t been it. Steve feels his throat constrict and a sourness settles that hadn’t been there before.

 

“I don’t want him.” He’s not quite sure what possesses him to say this either. Today seems to have a lineup of surprises in store for him. _Great,_ he thinks.

 

Nancy gives him a funny look but smiles softly.

 

“No, of course not. I just mean there might be some truth to your provocations. He does put a lot of energy into giving you hell. And all his remarks pick at your sexuality… and what you said obviously struck a nerve.”

 

“So... what do I do?”

 

She fixes him with her bright blue eyes for a long moment, making Steve feel anxious and uncomfortable. Damn, this whole conversation is uncomfortable!

 

“Give him what he wants.” She says finally.

 

Steve practically chokes.

 

“Make him a man Harrington!” And then she _winks_!

 

“You’re kidding right? Please tell me you’re joking.” Steve almost leans across the table to take her hand pleadingly.

 

Nancy can’t help but laugh at Steve’s mortified expression but it’s just too priceless. He may have actually paled from the response. He quickly regains composure at the sight of her wide and wolfish grin. He sighs, leans back heavily into the booth.

 

“Jesus Nance, I thought you were serious!”

 

“Would be quite a show though wouldn’t it …” She leers at him and Steve almost blushes, _almost_.

 

“What would be a show?” Jonathan asks as he returns from the bathroom and takes the open seat next to Nancy.

 

“If Steve let Billy Hargrove have his way…” Nancy says, coy as hell.

 

“Have his way with what?”

 

“With him.”

 

Steve wants to hide under the table.

 

It takes Jonathan a moment to catch onto what Nancy is implying. His brow furrows, mouth open as he questioningly stares at his girlfriend. Then it clicks. His eyebrows raise comically, partly concealed by his fringe. He looks like a fish out of water as he tries to formulate a response. He finally looks at Steve. Steve is surprised to see Jonathan’s eyes darken, his posture tense as he leans a bit over the table, hands braced against the tabletop.

 

“You’re not- you’d never actually consider that right?”

 

“What!” Steve can’t believe this,” Of course I wouldn’t! Jesus Byers, I’m not that desperate to get him off my back.”

 

Nancy sputters, unable to suppress her laughter.

 

“What-- oh god Nance! Come on, that’s not what I meant!” He’s really digging himself into a hole here. Maybe he can just bury himself if this conversion gets any worse.

 

Jonathan’s shoulders ease up but he still seems troubled. His eyes are drawn down as he worries his bottom lip.

 

“Jeez, you boys sure don’t know how to take a joke.” Nancy says, a smile still playing at her lips.

 

Steve rolls his eyes but smiles back,” But honestly-”

 

“Honestly Steve, you should try your best to ignore him. I know- _We_ know how much you care about us. Just walk away next time. We don’t like seeing you get hurt on our behalf, we care about you too, you know that.” Nancy’s cerulean eyes stare earnestly at him.

 

Steve nods, his shoulders slump. He feels defeated somehow but he knows this is the best route to take when dealing with Hargrove, the least harmful decision to make.

 

“Yea, you’re right.”

 

*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*

 

“ Steve?”

 

“Yea kid?”

 

“Nothing… nevermind.”

 

Steve looks over at Dustin, concern already playing at the edges of his mind. He turns down the radio.

“What?”

 

“It’s just that… do you ever get jealous? Of Jonathan with Nancy?”

 

“Huh… this isn’t the conversation I was expecting to have…” He mumbles and shakes his head, hair flying,” Uh yea-- well, I used to a lot more. But… things change, feelings change.”

 

Dustin looks out the passenger side window, ” Yea…” He whispers mostly to himself.

 

Steve licks his lips and sighs,” Why’d you ask? This about Max and-”

 

“Let’s just- let’s just not talk about it…”

 

Steve gets it, he really does.

 

“Don’t worry… You’ll find someone else.” He can’t help but say, it just comes out.

 

“Have you?”

 

Steve is about to say no on reflex but a sweep of images pass through his mind. Dark eyes, calloused fingers, sherpa coat and the smell of coffee. Steve almost crashes from the onslaught his brain has conjured up.

 

“No.” He swallows thickly around the word.  

 

If Dustin senses something’s off, he doesn’t let on.

 

Steve's palms sweat against the steering wheel as he drives towards the Henderson residence. His mouth is full of sawdust, his chest is an aching throb.

  

  

*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you enjoyed! Comments are loved & appreciated (:


	12. Inbetween Days

 

“ Wish I could protect him…”

 

Jonathan props his head up on one hand and peers over at Nancy. She’s curled at his side facing towards him. Her arms cradle her head as brown curls topple around her face and shoulders. He knows without asking who Nancy's referring to. For a brief moment Jonathan’s head falls into his arm. He sighs deeply, already straining from the conversation. Nancy carries on.

 

“ Maybe if he had someone… Hargrove would back off…”

 

Jonathan picks his head up to stare at her from under his fringe.

 

“ Had someone?”

 

“ Yea… you know? Like a girlfriend?”

 

He imagines it. Steve with a pretty girl on his arm. Steve opening the passenger side door for her. Steve laughing and showing her a good time. His mouth pulls down at the edges.

 

“What you don’t think that would work?” Nancey asks, picking up on Jonathan’s negative response.

 

“No, no it’s not that. I just- I don’t know Nance. What are we supposed to do? I doubt he’d want _us_ to set him up. I mean your his ex and I’m- I’m-”

 

“You’re his friend Jonathan. We both are. I thought we moved past all that…” She pouts lightly as her soft voice tapers off.

 

“ No, I know… I just- I don’t know.”

 

Nancy furrows her brow as she stares over at him. He can feel her bright eyes searching for something, perhaps some kind of explanation. There’s an anxious itch in his throat that he tries to swallow down. He can’t meet her eye. She doesn’t say anything for awhile, not until she releases a long sigh.

 

“ Well then what Jonathan? Hargrove is going to keep coming after him, even if he keeps his head low. He’s gonna end up having one black eye from Billy and one from his father!”

 

Her voice is frantic now. The end of her sentence breaking and splintering the cold air.  Jonathan watches as tears pull from her eyes and slide down her soft cheeks. Jonathan instinctually pulls her close, feels her shoulder’s shake but no sound escapes her trembling body. After a couple moments she pulls back from his chest just enough to stare up into his face.   

 

“Don’t you want to help him?” She’s pleading for something, some kind of confirmation she isn’t alone in her fears for their friend. Jonathan struggles with how jarred that question makes him feel.

 

“Yes, of course I do Nance. But what else can I do? Is he really safe _anywhere_?”

 

She stares hard at him for a moment. He stares back.

 

“Yes. He’s safe with you.”  She buries her head back in his chest, sniffles into his sweater.

 

Jonathan's been hit with a stun gun.

 

“You’re a safe place… I think he knows it too... Keeps going to you to bandage him up.” Jonathan can’t see her face but he can tell she’s smiling fondly.

 

“Yea… Yea, I guess he does. But that’s all I can give him Nance. What else is there?”

 

She sighs again but doesn’t answer his question.

 

_What else is there?_

 

The question rings in his own ears. Makes something under his skin hot and tingly.

He’s given Steve support. A moth eaten couch to sleep on. A clean Sex Pistols shirt to sleep in.

Dinner and a first aid kit. Long laughs well past midnight.

A friend.

He’s given Steve his friendship.

That’s all there is.

 

Pictures of Steve and an imaginary girl go through his mind like a winding camera roll. He imagines Steve’s wide, jubilant smile. Hazel eyes gleaming with an emotion Jonathan’s sure he’s never actually seen the other boy have. Careless laughter bubbling up and out at the nameless girl’s witty remark.

 

Something stirs in the shadows of Jonathan’s mind, an uncomfortable knowing he isn’t willing to look at or shed light on. He runs from the thought. But god does he feel the ache.  

 

 

*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*

 


	13. In Your House

“What’s the rush Byers, got somewhere special to be?” 

 

A lazy drawl halts Jonathan’s quick pace to his car. He’s just off work and it’s below freezing. The Indiana air frosts his breath and makes his fingers quiver from the cold. He looks over his shoulder, his pace slows as he nears his driver’s side door. Billy Hargrove is leaning against his own vehicle. Half is face is immersed in shadow but his right eye and the side of his mouth is exposed, tinted by the neon red lights of the theater. Jonathan can smell cigarettes and cheap beer from where he's standing. He steadies his ground, raises his head and looks hard at Hargrove for a moment, then turns back around to unlock his car door. A rough, solid hand is on his shoulder before Jonathan’s even exhaled. 

 

“I was talkin’ to you, you fucking  _ freak _ .” Hargrove hisses as he turns Jonathan around and shoves him roughly against the car. Upclose, the stench of Billy’s nightly activities are more potent. Jonathan wants to gag as smoke, sex, and Coors fill his nose. There’s something disgustingly familier about it, an image of his father enters his mind eye and it clicks. 

 

“What’s up, gotta have your boyfriend fight your battles? Yea, yea that’s right! I know all about you two. You ain’t foolin’ no one with that skank.” 

 

Jonathan feels anger kindling low in his stomach. He thinks of the alley not far from here, where he clocked Steve a few times, remembers the ugly words spewed at him, egging him on to fight. Jonathan looks into Billy Hargrove’s icy gaze. He takes in the oil surrounding his nose and forehead, the dirt under his nails from where he’s clutching his shirt color. Hargrove’s stale breath lingers in his face through his cracked, dry mouth. Jonathan doesn’t sense any goodness, any redeemable quality from this guy. Maybe he once possessed it, Jonathan thinks, but maybe it was beaten out of him. 

 

“Why are you like this?” Jonathan says. 

Hargrove seems taken aback. But it's fleeting and then he’s snarling again. 

 

“What’s it to you huh? You think you’re better than me? Running around with King Steve and your whore. You’re nothing and you know it Byers. Just a matter of time before they know it too…”  

 

Jonathan tries not to take the bait but Hargrove has just voiced something Jonathan can't shake, something he fears- Nancy and Steve deserving more than him. He’s realizing how easy it is to get riled up by Hargrove, understands now why Steve can’t contain himself. 

 

He looks straight at Billy now. 

 

“Then what? You think they’ll come over to you? … He doesn’t want you, Hargrove.” 

 

Billy’s eyes widen a fraction as he stares into Jonathan’s face. His stale breath slithers between his desert lips and fills the small space between their faces. Before Jonathan can say more, Billy has got him by the throat. He feels cool, ringed fingers clamp down around his windpipe and squeeze. Jonathan’s hands fly upward to his chest and knot into the denim of his jacket, he tries to push him away but Hargrove leans heavily against him, muscle weight pressing him into the car. The coolness of the metal bleeds into Jonathan's back as his face flushes from the lack of oxygen. Jonathan can feel the firm press of Hargrove’s groin against his thigh. He realises to his horror that Hargrove is hard-- hard and pressing dangerously into him. 

 

Jonathan moves suddenly, pushing his weight forward into the other so Hargrove has to  back up slightly. He then knees Hargrove where it hurts. The mullet haired man releases his hold on Jonathan’s throat as he doubles over. Jonathan gasps for air. He shoves him roughly away and scrambles for his car key. He slams the door and is pulling out of the drive without a second glance. 

The road home is dark and quiet. 

 

*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.* 

  
  


Jonathan parks the car. The lights inside the small house are off. He knows without walking in that his mother is fast asleep with her and Will’s door open, that fresh embers are in the ashtray. and that Will’s drawings are scattered around the living room. It’s as normal, given the circumstance, the Byers residence has been in awhile. And Jonathan can’t go in. He doesn’t feel normal right now. His fingers were clammy and trembling against the steering wheel so much that he had to clench them hard that now they’re sore. Hs throat is burning, mind running a bit too fast for him to follow. Johnathan doesn’t bother turning off his headlights, he’s pulling out of the drive without another thought. 

 

*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.* 

 

“ Jonathan?”  

 

“ Can I come in?” 

 

“Uh yea, yea of course!” 

 

Steve is surprised. Not that this is completely strange, but it’s usually him showing up at odd hours at the blonde’s house. To have it be the other way around … makes him feel funny, pleasant in a way. 

 

“What’s up? What are you doing here?” 

 

Jonathan doesn’t answer immediately. He walks towards the kitchen, Steve following behind. The blonde runs the tap, waits for the water to heat, and then shoves his hands underneath. They start to gain more feeling after a moment. When he turns to dry them, he notices the open bottle of bourbon on the counter. 

 

“Sorry, was I interrupting something?” He asks, pointedly staring. 

 

Steve stands, hands on his hips and follows Jonathan’s line of sight. 

 

“What? Oh-no. I was just... I don’t know. Celebrating.” 

Jonathan raises his eyebrows, “Celebrating.” He repeats. 

 

Steve clicks his tongue, “ Yup, to my parents being gone and out of my hair.” 

 

“You sure about that? You could hide a whole village in there.” Jonathan jokes, attempting to lighten the gloom he may have carried in and walked into. 

 

“Shut up, you know I look good.”

 

Jonathan rolls his eyes in response, digs his hands into his pockets and looks down as he shuffles from foot to foot.

 

“ Can I sleep here tonight?”

 

“... Sure, yeah man. Are you alright?” Steve asks, drawing his brows together. His mouth his firmly set as he tries to gage what state Jonathan arrived in. 

 

“ Um yeah. Yeah, it’s nothing. I just didn’t want to be alone tonight. And uh- Nancy can’t…” 

He trails off. 

 

Steve bites the inside corner of his mouth and stares at the blonde a moment longer.

 

“Yeah, alright. No problem.” He gives him an easy smile and watches Jonathan visibly relax a bit. 

 

“Here, let me get you something to wear then.”

 

Steve heads up the stairs as Jonathan hesitantly follows suit. 

 

*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.* 

Steve’s brain and heart seem to be in competition for who can run a million miles a minute. He had just reached into his father’s liquor cabinet to have a drink- or five… When there was a light wrap on his front door. He immediately thought of the bat under his bed and estimated how many seconds it would take for him to grab it. But he rationalized that demogorgons probably wouldn't knock and hesitantly answered the door empty handed. 

 

Steve’s breath caught when he saw Jonathan standing there on his porch in his work clothes, shaking from what he hoped was just the cold. He was trying to shake off the nervousness sumbersalting in his throat and making it difficult to concentrate. Steve tried not to think about his revelation the other day, tried shoveling it down and burying it. But seeing the other boy now, knowing what he knows and feeling the rushing, the fluttering, the daze of sensations. He knew. Steve recognized this feeling. He once had it for Nancy. 

 

Steve’s seen a lot of shit over the past year. He’s been heartbroken, worried, anxious, and beaten bloody. 

 

But never has he felt so scared and so disgusted with himself.

 

*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.* 

 

Steve rinses his face with icy water, lets it sooth the heat that seems to radiate under his clothes, under his skin. He walks back into his bedroom in the midst of Jonathan changing into a pair of Steve’s clean clothes. The brunette stops short in the doorway when he sees the back of Jonathan’s neck. 

 

“Dude, what the fuck?” 

Jonathan jumps, unaware that Steve had re-entered the room. He attempts to pull the shirt over his bare torso but Steve is already right there tugging the shirt up and off. Jonathan crosses his arms. 

 

“Jonathan.” Steve whispers,” Jonathan, look at me.” 

 

The blonde exhales deeply through his nose as he clenches his eyes shut. When he opens them, he meets Steve’s seething hazel ones. 

 

“Who did this?” Jonathan can barely hear him. 

 

He watches as Steve’s eyes trace what he assumes to be some pretty ugly marks, probably beginning to bruise. He flinches involintarily when the bruntettle reaches for him. Steve meets his eye. A silent question passes between them to which Jonathan accepts. Steve gently cups Jonathan's jaw, tilts it at an angle so the light reveals more of the damage. Jonathan’s eyes drift shut, he’s so tired and his mind can’t help but pull away into a hazy place. He hears Steve swallow, imagines the rise and fall of his adam’s apple. Steve watches the fresh reds and purples spread across Jonathan’s skin, dark fingermarks have blossomed along the line of his throat, standing out grotesquely against Jonathan’s wan skin. Steve has the sudden desire to wretch. His heart is thrumming. His concern is barley reining in the rage. He watches the nervous tick of Jonathan’s pulse for a moment before he lets his hand fall away. Jonathan straightens his neck. He won’t look at Steve.

 

“Who?” Steve asks again. Almost pleading. 

 

Jonathan licks is dry lips.

“Hargrove.” 

 

Steve pales and steps away from the other boy. Jonathan finally looks up to meet him but all he sees is Steve’s retreating back as he steps out of the room. 

 

*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.* 

 

The brunette’s hands are shaking as he reaches for the first aid kit in the hallway closet. He tries to control them as he enters the bedroom. Jonathan is seated on his bed and barely looks up. He waits for him to meet his eyes to ask another silent question. Jonathan concedes. 

 

“What happened…” He asks as he begins to rub arnica around Jonathan’s throat. The blonde winces before replying. He keeps his eyes closed as he talks. His tongue is made of sandpaper, heavy and dry. Steve doesn’t speak the entire time, just continues to rub in the ointment and bandage him up. When Jonathan finishes Steve remembers to pull away. He carelessly throws everything back into the kit and places it on the floor. Steve leans forward, elbows resting on his knees as he brings his head in his hands, runs them up through his hair to tug at the wild strands helplessly. 

 

“I’m sorry…” He mutters.

 

Jonathan is sure he didn’t hear him right.

“What?”

 

“It’s my fault.”

 

“No Steve-”

 

Steve whips his head up and stares at him incredulously. His hazel eyes look bewildered, untamed. “Don’t Jonathan, just don’t… I should have been there or something.”

 

“Steve how could you have known? Please-- it’s really not your-” 

 

“It’s because of me Jonathan! What if he goes after you again or -or Nancy? God, what if he goes for her next!” 

 

Jonathan stares helplessly at Steve, doesn't know what to say to ease his guilt.

 

“ I don’t blame you.” Slips out.

 

Steve falters. 

“ Why? How could you not?”

 

“Because it’s out of your hands.” 

 

Steve wants to argue, but he’s too frazzled and damn exhausted from being worked up, he doesn’t have it in him. Jonathan puts on the shirt bundled up in his hands. He crawls to the side of the bed, turns on his side facing the wall. Steve stares at Jonathan’s back for a few moments before turning out the light. Neither of them dream tonight. 

 

*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.* 


	14. Plastic Passion

“What do you think of Judy Hicks?”

“Uh, I don’t.”

Nancy purses her lips, eyes fluttering down. Steve’s brow furrows, brown eyes raking over her pensive face. They’re leaning against Jonathan’s car, waiting for the later to emerge from the dark room.

“Why?”

“Well I- she asked me for your number today in Chem.”

“Oh?”

“And… I gave it to her.”

“Oh.”

“I didn’t know or- or think you’d mind, Steve. I thought maybe, ya know, you’d be in to it? I don’t know what I was thinking actually, I’ll tell her to forge-”

“Nancy, it’s fine.”

“It is?”

“Yeah, I mean… If she calls… we’ll see.”

“Oh, okay… good.”

Nancy tries an easy smile to which Steve returns with grace, probably from practice, she concludes. Steve begins gnawing at his bottom lip, eyes falling downward on his white converse.

“So she’s into me?” He asks after a beat.

Nancy laughs, flabbergasted,” Yeah, I’d say so. She came up to my desk, face turning pinker every moment she beat around the bush.”

Steve laughs wispily,” Well, that’s cute I guess.”

“So you’ll call her back? If she calls?”

Steve rolls his eyes good naturedly,” I don’t know Nance, maybe…”

“Well, what would stop you?”

Steve looks up from his shoes to meet her searching cerulean eyes. He bites the inside corner of his mouth. _What would stop me? Geez, Nance you’d never guess._ Steve shrugs, the cotton of his emerald sweater bunching.

“M’not really looking for someone right now.”

Nancy’s face tightens, sensing they’ve breached sensitive ground.

“Right, right okay.”

“Nance?”

Her eyes find his whiskey ones. They look large and a little afraid as they stare into hers.

“Is this your way of telling me to get lost?”

Nancy’s eyebrows raise comically as she scrambles to correct the mistake.

“No! No, god Steve that’s not what I meant at all. Jonathan and I love when you’re around. You’re our best friend. I just thought- I don’t know what I thought.”

Steve feels the tension ease up around his shoulders at hearing the sincerity in Nancy’s voice.

“We’re friends?” Steve asks, fighting to keep the corners of his mouth from turning upward.

Nancy rolls her eyes,” You’re an idiot, Steve Harrington.”

 

*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*

“So why are we going to the diner?” Jonathan asks from behind the steering wheel.

“We need a reason to eat?” Nancy says.

“We just ate.”

Nancy sighs deeply and drops her head, curls falling forward. She brushes them away as she falls back into the passenger seat. Her eyes scan Jonathan’s scrunched brow, his mouth slightly parted in confusion at her behavior.

“Steve’s on a date. I said we’d meet him there after.”  She finally says, looking away.

Jonathan’s silence makes her look back at him. His face is expressionless as he stares out the windshield at the heavily laden snow and barren trees.

“Jonathan?”

He doesn’t look at her.

“Look, I know you said he probably wouldn’t want us setting him up but I saw Judy and remembered she broke up with Sam Emerson and thought… I thought maybe they’d hit it off or something. And then maybe Hargrove would back up.”

Ugh, just the mention of Billy Hargrove makes the healing bruises around Jonathan’s neck ache. The phantom memory of Steve’s fingers trailing close behind, but Jonathan pushes that away, out of reach. A bitter laugh escapes him.

“I wouldn’t hold your breath Nance.”

Nancy’s face hardens over the rising hurt.

“I’m desperate Jonathan. Even if that means Steve gets a girlfriend and we see less of him, I can’t handle it anymore. I can’t handle Hargrove punching him and _then_ nearly strangling you. I can’t just not do anything.” Red hair and glasses, pale fingers tug at the back of Nancy’s mind but she can’t think of that right now either.

Jonathan meets her stern eyes, filled with determination. He looks away without a word and pulls out of his driveway, towards the diner.

 

*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*

 

The bell above the glass door dings as Nancy and Jonathan enter the diner. She spots Steve’s meticulously styled hair and jubilant face. Across from him, a petite girl with dark wavy hair sits, her elbows on the table as she leans suggestively close. Nancy already knows the trick Judy’s pulling with her low cut striped t-shirt. Steve looks past Judy’s shoulder, making eye contact with Nancy instantly. Nancy gives a thumbs up and points to a back booth on the other side of the diner, indicating where to meet her and Jonathan after his date. Steve just winks before turning his attention back to Judy, whose shoulders are shaking with giggles, no doubt from something Steve has said moments prior to them entering.

Nancy scoots across the red vinyl seats of the booth, detesting the squeaky sound it makes. Jonathan sits without a word, gaze lingering out the window at the falling snow. Nancy can sense the distance between Jonathan’s body and mind. He feels far away.

“Jonathan?” Her voice is tentative and soft, barley disrupting the air.

His eyes are the color of cole in this dim yellow light, her breath catches at the intensity there.

“Are you mad? At me?”

Jonathan closes his eyes, rubs them against his sleeve sheathed palms, before smiling slightly. But his dimples don’t show.

“No, no I’m just feeling a little sick. I’ll be fine.”

Nancy nods, lips pursed, but doesn’t say anything else about his sudden shift in mood. She watches Jonathan’s attention shift from the window over to the other side of the diner. His dry mouth closes, she can see the muscle of his jaw clench beneath his hollowed cheeks. Her cerulean eyes follow the path of his gaze.

Steve and Judy are standing up from there table to exchange goodbyes, Steve is wrapping her up in a friendly hug. Before he pulls away completely, Judy’s cherry red manicured hand his knotting into the front of Steve’s shirt, drawing him forward for a kiss. Steve is pulled easily, eyes closing briefly as their mouths touch. When Judy pulls away some of her pink lipstick stains Steve’s mouth. He smirks at her before waving her off. Judy looks over her striped shoulder back at him, blowing Steve a kiss, the bell dinging as she exits.

Nancy’s eyes hover on Steve. His hands are on his hips as he watches Judy from the window get into her car. Nancy steals her gaze back to her boyfriend. Jonathan looks like he’s paled three shades since she last glanced at him. His knuckles are little white knives under his skin, as he clenches the fabric of his sleeves. Jonathan’s eyes are the darkest she’s seen them, pupils consumed in their blackness. Her mouth dries as she tries to swallow the ache in her throat. Nancy tries to place the emotion emanating off of him, tries to find the word, but her brain feels mushy as the synapses try to make connections. Nancy’s heart picks up pace as the word is punched into the forefront of her mind. _Jealous!_ Jealous jealous jealous jealous jealous jel- she repeats the word in her head, tries to make sense of it, as if it’s lost all meaning or recognition to her.

Jonathan’s gaze falls towards his hands, where they've bunched together in a white knuckled tangle. Nancy tries to remain composed as she licks her lips and glances back and forth between Jonathan and the tabletop between them. The tension isn’t leaving her shoulders. She nearly jumps out of her skin when Steve approaches their booth and takes a seat next to Jonathan, who seems to shrink away from Steve’s presence. Nancy swallows before speaking.  

“Steve! How- how was Judy? I mean your date, how was your date?” She hopes her smile isn’t too wide, too obvious.

The jubilance Nancy had seen on his face when they had first walked in has lessened. His shoulders droop as he drops lazily against the red vinyl cushion. But he smiles softly.   
“It was fine...Great actually. Judy’s pretty funny, didn’t think she would be.”

“Great, that’s great Steve, I’m glad.” Nancy glances at her boyfriend who has yet to acknowledge Steve or his recent activity. Instead he draws wet swirls on the table from a water ring left by a previous customer’s drink.

“Yea, yea me too.” Steve says.

“You think you’ll see her again?”

“Uh I don’t know. Maybe.”

“Maybe? I thought you said it was great!”

“It was! I mean Judy’s funny and all but- I just didn’t feel, ya know, the thing…”

“The thing?”

“The connection you’re supposed to have or whatever?”

Oh, the connection. Right, the thing that makes your heart hammer and your palms sweat. The thing that makes every other interaction leading up to that point seem meaningless or completely relevant because it led you to that moment, and you feel thankful because you’ve found someone. _The_ Connection. Nancy felt that. Wait _feels_ that, she corrects herself. She feels a connection to Jonathan like that. Right? She glances over at him again, feels a distance like an abyss, or the hollow of the tree she had climbed into, infinite and overwhelming.

 

*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*

 

Judy invites the three of them to her party the following day.

“Would you guys wanna go? I mean that could be fun right?” Steve asks them.

“You two can go on ahead and party, I rather not.” Jonathan says, a bitter definite edge creeping into his words.

“C’mon man please! You can be my wingman!” Steve shoves down the clench in his stomach.  

“Nancy can be your wingman, Steve. I’m sure she’d be way better at that than me.”

Jonathan’s eyes lay heavy on his untouched food. Nancy eyes him carefully before turning her attention back to Steve, who is looking at Jonathan, a crease maring the smooth skin of his brow. He glances back at Nancy, brown eyes big and pleading. She sighs and Steve grins, knowing he’s won.

“Fine, we’ll go.”

“Nancy-” Jonathan tries to argue.

“We’re going.”

Jonathan’s jaw clenches but he keeps his mouth closed and reaganges the peas on his plate.

 

*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*

 

“ ‘Cause I'm homesick

Feel a little down and blue

And I'm hurting

Hurting baby just like you”

 

Mick Jagger’s “Just Another Night” pulses loudly through the large house, filled and spilling out with people. Couples are making out on the green lawn outfront, too drunk to mind the sprinklers. The party only started thirty minutes ago, but the kids at Hawkins high waste no time in getting sloshed. Nancy weaves through the crowd after Steve, Jonathan trailing behind her.

“Stevieee!”

Judy’s shrill voice pierces above the music and Nancy suddenly feels tense. Steve looks to his right, sees Judy pushing towards him. Her lavender dress, pearls, and crimped hair press against him in a tight hug. She leans her drunken weight on to him but Steve laughs good naturedly and tries to remove her from his freshly pressed shirt.

“I’m going to get us drinks.” Nancy hears Jonathan's gruff voice behind her. When she looks back, he’s already slipping into the crowd towards the kitchen.

A beer is being pressed from Judy’s red clawed hand into his Steve’s palms. It’s already opened and some of it dribbles out onto his thumb.

“Oh whoops! My bad.” Judy leers up at Steve through her lashes.

Before he can grasp what she’s doing, she tugs his hand towards her mouth and licks the liquid off his thumb, warm tongue lapping against his skin. Steve pulls his hand away, laughs awkwardly, and starts drinking from the can.

Nancy watches the exchange, her nose scrunching up with distaste. _Oh no, what have I done!_ She thinks. Her attention is cut off by Jonathan pushing a drink into her hand, she notices his drink looks already half gone as he swallows a mouthful of liquor.

“Thanks,” She says.

Jonathan hums a response while looking around anxiously. He tips his head back and downs the rest of the contents in his red cup. Nancy watches his eyes graze over Steve and Judy’s huddled forms. Judy is leaning against the wall, Steve with an arm resting above her head, leaning in and laughing.

“I’m gonna grab another drink, you want one?” Jonathan says hastily while turning away.

Nancy glances down at her un-sipped drink and shakes her head, concern squinting her eyes as she watches Jonathan disapear into the crowd again. _Fuck, he really- this is bad._

 

*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*

 

“Jonathan! Hey Jonathan, where’s Nancy!” Steve’s tipsy voice is full of warmth as he approaches the shorter boy.

“Bathroom I think.”

“Oh yea?”

“Yea.

“How’re you holding up!”

Jonathan holds up the contents of his third drink, more than half empty, raises his eyebrows and nods,” Pretty good I’d say!” He hiccups.

Steve laughs and grasps his shoulder with a heavy hand. Jonathan doesn't feel the hot touch instantly, but is too drunk to flinch away when he does.

“I’m glad you came.” Steve’s mouth curls into a content smile,” I like doing things with- with you guys.”

Jonathan makes an indignant snort. A line wrinkles Steve’s forehead. He leans forward, closer into Jonathan’s space, the alcohol slowly manipulating his spatial awareness.   
“What?”

Jonathan shakes his head and takes another drink.

“No really, what is it?”

Jonathan presses his lips together as he swallows the liquor. The houses lights are dim, making everyone behind Steve seem blurry and distorted. The brunette’s eyes are boring into him, confused. Steve’s hair falls forward, creating linear shadows down his forehead. Jonathan has the strongest urge to push the strands back.

“Judy Hicks. You said you didn’t feel a connection. Before.” Ugh, her name feels sour on his tongue or maybe it’s the reminisce of the tequila, he doesn’t know for sure.

“Yup, what about it?” Steve still looks confused.

“Doesn’t look that way anymore. Looks like you were connecting pretty well a few minutes ago!” Jonathan drunkenly gentures to the far wall on the other side of the giant room, where Steve had had Judy pressed in a messy makeout.

“Don’t need to _connect_ with someone to kiss them, Byers. Don’t you know that?” Steve says teasingly.

“Right, right of course not. Not King Steve!” Jonathan raises his cup as if to make a toast before downing the rest of the contents. When he meets Steve’s eyes again, they look even more confused and a little hurt. _Good,_ Jonathan can’t help but think. Guilt punctures his gut. Jonathan shakes his head as if to rid himself of the feeling.

“Wait, what’s the matter Jonathan?” Steve leans further into the blonde’s space, searching his face as if the answer is written there. Jonathan sure hopes not.

“It’s nothing Steve. ‘M just drunk…”

His hand presses against Steve’s chest as if to push him and he thinks he is, but Steve doesn’t move. Jonathan can feel the heat under Steve’s shirt. His fingers itch to curl into the fabric but he manages to restrain himself.

“I gotta go.” He hiccups.

“What?” Steve shakes his head slightly.

“I- me and Nancy, we gotta go. Have fun with Judy.”

Jonathan looks past Steve’s shoulder and sees Nancy standing there, lips pursed, watching them. Steve looks behind and smiles at Nancy. Her puckered mouth loosens into a mimic of a smile, as Jonathan slips away from Steve, towards her.

“We’ll see you tomorrow.” Steve watches Nancy’s mouth move but can’t hear her voice. The tug in his gut makes him queasy but he smiles halfheartedly at their departing figures.

 

*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*

 

“Jonathan. We need to- to talk.”

Nancy and Jonathan are laying on his bed, on their sides facing each other. His heavy eyelids pull open to look at her shaken expression.

“Sure, Nance what is it?” He hopes the concern is apparent in his voice, he can’t feel his face enough to tell the expression it’s making.

Nancy’s stares at Jonathan’s drooping eyes, his red mouth, and flushed cheeks. Affection makes the corners of her mouth curl up. She wants to ruffle his hair but restrains herself by tucking her hands beneath her head.  

“I think- I think we should break up.” It’s barely above a whisper and Jonathan has to replay it in his foggy mind a few times.

“W-what?” His bloodshot eyes trace her strained face.

“We aren’t in love anymore, Jonathan…”

She can tell he wants to argue but can’t find the words, or doesn’t know how. Because she’s right. They love each other, that’s for sure. Would go to the Upside Down for each other and would be sacrificed for a demogorgon for each other, but they weren’t in love with each other.  

Jonathan nods and closes his watering eyes. He reaches a warm hand out to take hers. Matching scars press together. Nancy gives him a watery smile.

“You’re still my best friend.”

“You’re still my best friend, Nancy Wheeler.”

 

*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*


End file.
